


A Chalet Girl Fic That No One Asked For

by Resist_Reduce_Recycle



Category: Chalet Girl (2011), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Chalet Girl Rey, Cheesy, Comedy, Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Finn Is Adorable, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Han is funny tho, Humor, Leia is mean, Modern AU, Movie AU, Poe is a dirty slut, Rich Boy Ben Solo, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Snowboarding, attempted comedy, smut is finally here, so cheesy it's a pizza, sorry Leia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resist_Reduce_Recycle/pseuds/Resist_Reduce_Recycle
Summary: This is a shameless rip off of the movie Chalet Girl 2011 which I wrote because I'm stuck in lock-down and it was fun. It involves snowboarding, naked hot tub parties, and the cheesiest romance imaginable. Enjoy at your own risk.
Relationships: Phasma/Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron & Armitage Hux, Poe Dameron & Finn, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone in this fic is bi and no one can stop me.
> 
> It's fully written with the exception of the ending which I'm thinking about re-working slightly. Updates will be every week on Mondays.

“And what an amazing kick flip from Kaydel Connix! — Such an incredible competition it’s been here at the London Trials.” The report’s voice blares over the tinny television speakers. Over his face flash peppy clips of teenage girls on skateboards and cheering, grinning crowds.

“She really is the one to watch this year,” the second host — a woman — agrees. “But of course, the one competitor that everyone’s talking about today, the one that’s clearly still missing from the competition — is Rey Kenobi.” 

“Yes, exactly,” he says nodding. “A true skateboarding prodigy, Rey started at the tender age of seven, and won the mixed under 16s when she was just eleven.”

“But then, two years ago tragedy struck, on the day she won these very London Trials, when she lost her mum in a car crash. And since then, nothing. She’s not entered a single competition.”

“Her mum was, of course, her biggest fan; always cheering her on — ” 

Rey clicks off the smiling image of her mum holding a bright yellow ‘Go Rey’ sign over her head off. Yawning, she leans on the counter of the empty chicken and chips shop and wishes a customer would appear to give her something, anything, to do. She can literally feel the boredom eating away at her brain cells.

“Two for one special for onion rings,“ a voice rattles over the PA. “Two for one special on onion rings.”

The day is long, underpaid and dull, topped off with a late bus and grey walk home, where she almost gets clipped by some idiot on a skateboard. The sharp sting of annoyance is only slightly harsher with grief than usual. But it puts her into a foul mood when she finally heaves the door open.

“Why haven’t you opened these?” she snaps when she steps on a pile of late payment notices still lying on the floor by the door.

“I thought it was junk mail,” her dad, Obi-wan, calls from his spot on the sofa. 

“It says ‘Not Junk Mail’ in big red letters.” 

“Junk mail always says that,” he says, straightening the paper he’s reading. “It’s nothing worth getting worked up about.”

Rey rips the envelope with slightly more force than is necessary, quickly scanning the contents. 

“There’s nearly a grand here.” She wanders through to the living room, holding the letter towards him. “Dad, you can’t just ignore it.”

Looking up at last, Obi-wan reaches for the letter. After reading it, he shrugs. “We’ll figure something out. We can always sell the Bentley.”

“Someone stole the Bentley.”

“They’re bluffing.” He drops the page onto the cluttered coffee table, the corner dipping into a cold cup of coffee. “I’ll think of something.”

Rey gives him a look as she strides across the room to the basket of clean laundry she left on the table this morning.

“How’s the job search going?” she asks as she starts folding.

“Oh, no.” He goes back to his paper. “Nothing — yet.”

The corner of Rey’s mouth quirks up at the expected answer. “I’ll talk to Plutt for you.”

“What would I do without you?” 

“Fester.”

“Hmm,” Obi-wan hums his agreement.

The next day, standing cross-armed in his cramped office, Rey begrudgingly asks if there are any shifts her dad could pick up. The slimy smile on the rotund bastard’s face makes her want to take a shower.

“The rota is… full,” Plutt declares. Swivelling slightly in his chair, his eyes run over her. “Maybe if you’re extra nice to me, hmm?” His eyebrows wag at her.

“Oh, Plutt, don’t be cock all your life.” she says, marching out of his office and straight into the bathroom to thoroughly wash her hands. Fuck Plutt. She’d figure something out. Shaking water off, she returns to work.

“How did my summer job become the rest of my life job?” Rey says to Beabee when she rejoins her on the floor. They’re taking chairs down in preparation for opening, after mopping the floors the evening shift didn’t bother to clean.

“My sister’s just got this sweet new job,” she says, shrugging and looking sympathetic. “At a catering agency, serving champagne and fancy food to toffs. Pays £12.50 an hour.”

That catches Rey’s attention. “Hmm. Toffs and champagne or Plutt and — Eww.” She pulls a massive wad of chewing gum off the back of a chair. 

Beabee sticks her tongue out, pulling a face. “Eww — Well, I can give you the number if you want. You’ve got to be posh though.”

“Posh? BeaBee, I can be posh.”

Rey quickly regrets that statement. Sure, she gets an interview fine, the lady on the end of the phone seeming happy enough to meet later that day. But the interview is a nightmare — a group affair with a bunch of blazer-clad, pearl-adorned Arabellas, Henriettas and Isabellas, all too prim to speak to her, though they feel fine about giggling behind their hands as she shifts awkwardly in the corner. Blush fills her face as she mutters ‘Rey’ to the lady taking attendance, feeling the strain, for the first time in her life, of her modest lifestyle. 

The interview tasks themselves are impossible. All the other girls breeze through, confidently distinguishing white wine glasses from red wine glasses and carrying four china plates with ease. Meanwhile, Rey has no idea what a dessert wine glass looks like and manages to smash one of her plates. Needless to say, she’s expecting it when the lead interviewer calls her into the office.

“You seem like a lovely girl,” she starts, false smile glittering like her drop pearl earrings. “But I’m just not sure — ”

“Let me guess,” Rey interrupts her. She’s had enough. She’s tired and flushed with embarrassment and just wants to get home. This has all just been a colossal waste of time and energy, of getting her hopes up for nothing. She shouldn’t have even bothered. “You’re just not sure I’m the right kind of girl for this job. You can’t say why, exactly, but maybe it’s something to do with the fact that I’m not called Anabella or Isabella or anything-bella.”

She sucks in a frustrated breath and continues, “Maybe it’s because I don’t have £100 eyebrows, or manicured nails, or — and this is just a guess — expensively trimmed pubes.” The interviewer blinks in shock, but Rey trudges on in her tirade.

“So even though I’m probably the only one who’s actually had an actual job in the actual real world, and you know I’d try really, really hard, I’m just not the right kind of girl. Is that about it?”

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence as the interviewer stares at her notes.

“That’s about it, yes,” she says with an apologetic nod. 

Rey’s blinks in disappointment, lips pursing as she wills the angry tears not to come. She’s too strong to cry in front of this woman. Suite No. 1 in G major cuts the awkward silence, ringing from a phone which the interviewer quickly answers.

“This is Bella.” Rey rolls her eyes, gathering her stuff as the woman talks. “What happened? Oh, the silly cow.” Curls bounce as the interviewer shakes her head. “They’re arriving the day after tomorrow? No, everyone’s booked out.” Her eyes dart up just as Rey turns to leave. “Wait a second — uh,” she checks her notes, “Rey.”

  
“Look, I can’t just leave you — that’s why,” Rey says, forcefully scrubbing a plate, suds up to her elbows.

“But it sounds perfect. What was the job?” Obi-wan joins her by the sink.

“Cooking and cleaning, same as work. Same as here, actually.” She can feel his eyes on her.

“But the pay was rubbish?”

“No,” she says slowly. “Better, like double, plus tips. But still...” She trails off. 

“But still what?”

Rey sighs, returning to the pot in the sink. “It’s in a ski chalet. In Austria. For four months.”

“And?”

The pot clatters as she drops it. Frustrated, she strips off the gloves, hands coming to her hips. “And, I’d come home and find a skeleton on the sofa, remote still in your hand.”

Obi-wan opens his mouth to argue, but closes it again. “That’s a bit harsh.”

Rey spends the rest of the evening unable to focus on anything. She starts cooking dinner and then gets distracted by the rubbish, then gets distracted by bringing the laundry in off the line. She’s just started hoovering up a pile of crumbs when her phone sounds, a text from Beabee coming through.

B_B_8: no, ur right. totally the right decision.

Rey—dient: you think so?

B_B_8: yeah, sure!

B_B_8: what does a luxury chalet, full of hot rich clients in a beautiful ski resort have on the glitz and glamour of Nimma Chicken and Plutt in all his sweaty, greasy glory?

B_B_8: it’s a no—brainer

Rey picks her nails as she stares at the message. It was a no—brainer. She should take the job, then they might be able to save up enough to pay off the debts, and if it was only for four months…

She tosses and turns all night working out a plan. Just in case she takes the job. But she doesn’t make the final decision until the next day, half-way through her shift, when some spotty-faced preteen tries to complain that he found a toe-nail in his chicken sandwich. That’s the last straw. She needs a break from this life, even if it’s only for four months.

She’s on the phone as soon as she gets home. “Hi, it’s Rey Kenobi — I was wondering you were still — ”

“Desperately looking for a chalet girl?” Bella’s voice twangs with stress. “Yes, I am.”

“You are?” 

“Yes. Can you do it? You’ll have to be there tomorrow.” 

Rey glances over her shoulder at Obi-wan, who gives her two thumbs up with a big smile. “Yes.”

As soon as she hangs up, it’s all systems go. If she’s going to make the overnight train tonight, there’s packing and shopping to do, paperwork to be found. She’s got to make enough freezer food to last until April. 

“You know how the microwave works?” she asks, looking up from dicing onions.

Obi-wan is leaning against the counter, eating an apple. “Well, it’s a magnetron that converts electricity — ”

“No, no, no.” She shakes her head, resuming the onion massacre. “I mean like ‘on, off.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Obi-wan waves away her look of concern. Suddenly, his face falls. “What am I doing? Packing you off to some arctic wasteland, just because I’m failing at finding a job.”

“It’ll happen.”

“Besides, you’re only 19.”

“Exactly,” she waves her knife at him,a small piece of onion still stuck to the blade. “I’m 19. And it’s Austria, it’s hardly a wasteland.”

“What am I supposed to do with this, anyway?” he proclaims, brandishing an aubergine at her.

“You can’t live on beans on toast.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with beans on toast!” Obi-wan sounds genuinely offended on behalf of beans on toast.

“Well, I’ve set up an online shop every week, so at least there’ll be someone to check you’re still alive.”

The onions sizzle as she slides them into the pan. Obi-wan grumbles something about _The Sound of Music_ and psychoanalysts before disappearing into the living room. 

Later, Rey is kneeling in front of her wardrobe, shoving hoodie upon hoodie into an old gym bag, when she spots some peeling yellow cardboard poking through the pile of folded clothes. Tenderly, she pulls it out, laying it across her legs. It’s the sign her mum held at her last skateboarding competition — the last sign her mum ever made her. Water splashes on the faded marker as she hastily dries tears on the edge of her sleeve. She shakes her head, clearing away the feeling.

On her way to the train station, she stops at a florist to pick out some bright yellow flowers. The same colour of the poster, before it faded. Her mum’s favourite colour. The dull edge of grief cuts her as she stands on the bridge, the only time she stands on that bridge, and ties them to the railing. Hands in her pockets, she stands for a second, watching her dancing breath in the evening fog. 

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she says, stalling before the open train doors.

“Go, now.” Obi-wan tells her, helping her adjust the bag strap on her shoulder. He sighs deeply, one hand stroking her hair. “I love you, Rey.”

“I love you too, Dad.” 

He pulls her into a one armed hug, and Rey closes her eyes, ignoring the tug in her heart at leaving him. It was only for four months.

The train horn blares, and Obi-wan straightens, pulling away. “See you later. _Auf Wiedersehen_ ,” he says, waving as she hops on the carriage. 

“Oh — my pay goes straight into the mortgage account,” she calls from the train, people filing between them. “And if any letters come — ”

“Big red letters, I know,” he shouts from the platform. With one last smile and a nervous stomach flip, the train doors close and Rey is on her way to Austria. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh my god, I know!” The tanned, strong-jawed man holding a folded piece of cardboard with ‘Rey’ scrawled across it groans down his phone. “I’m absolutely  _ never  _ doing that again.”

He breaks off into a chuckle as Rey stops in front of him, adjusting her bag and rubbing her eye. She hadn’t gotten any sleep on the overnight train and must have incredible dark circles. Self consciously, a hand tries to flatten her frizzy hair, as the man continues talking:

“It was so creepy. He’s such a perv — he spent the whole night staring at my…” Seeming to just spot Rey, he trails off, gazing over the rim of his expensive looking sunglasses. He’s maybe half a foot taller than Rey, his frame clearly toned and lean, even under his puffy, fur lined jacket. Rey hopes it’s at least faux fur. “Can I call you back, babe? ‘Kay, bye.”

With an awkward smile, Rey raises a hand in a strange kind of half wave. Immediately she regrets it, flush filling her cheeks that has nothing to do with the chilly Austrian air. She shoves the hand in her pocket before it can do anything else to embarrass her.

The man is still looking at her. “Seriously?” Rey’s brow furrows.

“Yep.” 

With a long sigh, he turns away. “Okay, let’s go.”

Rey plonks her bag into the back of the shining black sedan Poe gestures to, slamming the boot shut to his exasperated exhale — apparently cars of that caliber, as he explains, have a push-to-close button for the trunk. Rolling her eyes, Rey settles in the front seat, ignoring how comfortable the leather-clad cushion feels against her sore back. 

Despite a rather rocky landing, soon they’re off, whipping out of the train station, Poe expertly pulling around the winding streets and out of the station town. Their final destination, St. Anton, is a twenty minute drive away, and soon the stonewalled houses and cobbled streets are replaced by thick alpine forest and whitecapped mountains.

Rey can’t stop staring at the mountains. She’s awed at how big they are. How majestic. They cover the landscape with beautiful shades of grey — from harsh, dark ravines speckled with pine trees to pale snowy slopes swooping into the sky. Nothing like the familiar city streets and asphalt she’s known so far, harsh and devoid of grace or beauty. She never thought the colour grey could be beautiful before. But there it is.

“Wow, they’re huge,” she can’t help saying out loud.

“Uh, yeah,” the man — Poe, he said his name was — looks at Rey, eyebrow cocked. “They’re mountains. Huge is pretty core to the concept.”

Rey is too tired to quip back at him — she’s far more interested in watching the scenery roll past the window.

“You don’t even ski, do you?” Rey shakes her head. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a job,” Rey says absentmindedly. She’s just spotted an icy river winding through the valley below. “I need money.”

“As in, what — to save?” 

That draws her gaze back into the vehicle, to Poe who’s sarcasm has turned to confusion. Rey shrugs. She’s not going to even try explaining the situation. With a cut of brown eyes, Poe turns back to driving, leaving Rey to enjoy the rest of the ride in silence.

It’s not long before they’re approaching the ski resort, the flowing water turning into a stream of brightly—clad skiers, swooping over the undulating white ground. They’re just pulling through the furthest buildings when the car comes up behind a group of four skiers, walking with their skis slung over their shoulders. Poe slows, rolling his window down, letting a cold blast of air into the heated interior.

“Thought I recognized that arse,” he calls out the window. The shortest of the four — an asian girl with high cheekbones and glowing skin — twists around. 

“Oh, hello Ugly,” her voice rings back. “You joining us?”

“In a minute, I’ve got to drop the new girl off first,” Poe nods at Rey.

“Ooo new girl? Let me see.” 

Poe leans back accommodatingly. “Rey, Rose. Rose, Rey.”

Rose’s smile tightens slightly. “Hi!” 

Rey raises a hand. “Hi.”

Rose and Poe share a glance, a beat of silence filling the car. “Well, see you in a bit, babe.”

“See you in a bit.” When Poe turns back to the wheel, his face is creased with a smile. Rey rolls her eyes and returns to the window. It’s going to be a long four months.

The chalet is on the other side of the resort, set high up on the mountain, next to one of the slopes. Rey can see groups advancing down through periodic gaps in the trees. The building itself is immense; dark wood stretching three stories high, fully encircled by balconies, complete with white trimming. It looks big enough to house half the resort.

“So what, is this guy some notorious criminal?” Rey cranes her neck to look up at the wooden monstrosity as she fetches her bag from the boot.

“He owns a freighting company, she’s a general.”

“So that’s a yes then.” 

Poe is distinctly unimpressed. “You just don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“This is the best job in the Alps. The family are never here, apart from a few weekends entertaining clients.” Rey gazes up at the luxurious cabin again. It’s hard to imagine owning such a place and not spending any time there. “I had twenty friends begging me for the job when Paige broke her leg. But, it had to be someone the agency had seen.” 

With a punctuating click he unlocks the front door — an ornate two door affair — and swings it open. Scrubbing the snow from her shoes on the mat, Rey follows him inside.

“It’s funny, you know, I wasn’t going to take it at first.” Poe shoots her a withering glare. “Okay, maybe it’s not that funny.”

Suddenly, Poe’s arm shoots out, almost catching Rey in the neck, stopping her in her tracks. He sighs, the air ghosting down over Rey’s face, as his gaze turns even more steely. 

“Look, Miss. Never—Seen—Mountains—Before,” Poe says, voice taught as a pulled chord. “The Organa-Solos are arriving at six, and they expect perfection from the staff. So if you’re not up to the job, tell me now.”

Rey’s face locks into an iron mask of indifference, save for the burning in her cheeks. “Please,” she pulls the word through with her most defiant drawl, “last week I was mopping up puke in a chicken shop, making £6.50 an hour. I think I can handle it.”

Poe isn’t convinced. “Because,” he continues, gaze boring into Rey, “If you so much as slip up, or worse, make me look bad, mopping up puke will be a fond memory of the good old days. Understand?”

There’s a tense moment as they glare at each other. Rey drops her eyes first, pushing past Poe, further into the house. Anger thrums in her veins, and all she wants to do is yell at him, but that wouldn’t help anything. All she can do is swear to prove him wrong.

She wanders a short way down the hall before she realises she has no idea where she’s going. “So where should I put this?” 

Poe, still standing by the entrance, swings open a door to his right. “Here.” 

Reluctantly, Rey back tracks, glancing inside. Her stomach drops as she takes in two twin beds, one unmade, strewn with clothes and surrounded by brightly coloured posters and magazine clippings. The other only has a small pile of clothes on it, which she pointedly moves to Poe’s side before dropping her bag on the thick yellow quilt.

“There are three golden rules in the chalet,” Poe says, leaning against the bedroom door. It sounds like a practiced spiel but at least the icy edge to his voice has softened somewhat. “One: no bringing friends into the chalet.” Rey nods in agreement. “Two: party all you like, as long as breakfast is ready at eight. Oversleep, and you’re out the door.”

Rey rolls her eyes. She’s not here to party. “Friends, breakfast, check. What else?”

“Three: no sleeping with the clients. Keep it professional.” Poe swallows as he says it, dropping his eyes for the first time all day. “Unless they’re fit… Or rich… Or hitting on you.” 

“So basically there are only two rules?”

“Basically.” Poe hesitates for a second, playing with the edge of his sleeve. He looks more human than Rey has seen him so far, and she begins to wonder if, maybe, there’s actually a nice guy in there somewhere.

“Be ready to go at five.” His eyes glide over Rey’s hoodie and jeans combo. “And dress appropriately, got it?” Without waiting for an answer, Poe hoists a pair of skis beside the door up and strides out, in the direction of the slope.

“I’ll just make myself at home then,” Rey says to the empty house.

Once her meager wardrobe is unpacked, she wanders through the multiple hallways lined with artwork and out-of-season flowers, not bothering to count the rooms they lead to. Through the kitchen, hand running over the gleaming marble worktops and rustic breakfast bar, into the dinning room, around the maroon dining chairs and solid oak table. She makes a face at a truly ugly painting of a woman, that probably cost more than she makes in a year. She grabs a remote sitting on the coffee table in hopes of flicking through the Austrian channels, but instead it makes the fireplace roar to life, blazing as if it had been burning for hours. Grinning, she presses another button, which makes the blind drop, blocking out the cool alpine sun. Another button, and the TV flicks on, yodelling filling the room. Exhaling, she drops onto the throw-draped sofa, taking in her new surroundings. It’s not a lifestyle she thought she’d ever get to experience. Not a lifestyle she ever really thought about anyone having, if she was honest. A slow smile spreads across her face as she lets the fire warm her face. 

Later, Rey is taking a cup of tea onto the balcony to watch the skiers, when she hears approaching voices and crunching footsteps. Glancing below, she spots Rose and Poe returning, skis over their shoulders.

“It’s not like you’ve got to share a room with her for the next four months,” Rose is saying. “Oh wait…” she trails off with a smirk.

“I’m serious, babe,” Poe moans. “It’s a nightmare. She doesn’t even ski.”

“Why even take a job in a chalet if you can’t ski?”

“Money. She says she has to save.” Both of them wrinkle their noses at the word.

“Ew.” 

“Tell me about it.”

They’ve just reached the gate at the end of the garden, when Rose turns off to the left, inky locks bouncing across her back. “See you later, babe,” she says, blowing a kiss to Poe.

“Later, babe,” Poe replies, doing the same. Rey rolls her eyes, making mocking kissing noises at them. Sighing, she goes back into the chalet, pouring her tea into the sink, stomach turning.

They leave the chalet at 5:15pm, running to the supermarket for the essentials. It’s a much larger supermarket than Rey expected, given the size of the town, stretching at least ten aisles, complete with staffed cold deli.

“Shall I get the veg then?” Rey asks, as Poe stops in front of the counter.

Poe, stalls, gaze spinning to Rey and then to the deli worker in front of him. “Four tins of caviar, please, beluga.” 

Rey can hear the smirk even if she can’t see it. “Caviar, right. Of course.”

“Look,” Poe leans a hand on the counter, sharp jawline catching the light, “I think it’ll work much better if I’m more front-of-house and you’re more… back office. Because I know how to talk to them.”

Rey half-grimaces at the attempt at being nice. “Yeah, I don’t speak much posh. Dropped it after GCSEs.”

Poe rolls his eyes as he checks his watch, silver wristband glittering in the fluorescent light. “We have to get moving, they’re landing in half an hour.”

“I thought you said they landed at six?” The deli worker returns with the caviar, safely wrapped in a paper bag. 

Poe grabs it and whisks off to the cheese section. “I did. But the co-pilot called. They had a tailwind.”

“Oh, right,” Rey says striding after him. “Wait, the who called?”

She still can’t really believe it, even as they’re driving up to the airstrip half an hour later. 

“Urgh, he’s here already.” Poe’s lip curls as they pull up to another car. There’s a middle aged man leaning against it, thin faced, almost gaunt, skin beginning to sag with age. His eyes are so pale they’re almost white, and are trained keenly on Rey.

“Who?” she asks, unease curling in her belly as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

“The family’s all-round ski-guide, local expert, and gimp,” he replies as they get out of the car. Poe walks over to stand next to the man, a false smile growing across his face. “Rey, this is the very handsome, very powerful, Bernard Snoke.”

Snoke does not look impressed. “You’re late.”

“Did I mention very charming?”

Snokes eyes drip over Rey as he takes her in. “Is this the new  _ hausmadchen _ ?”

“Rey.” She holds out her hand to shake. Snoke begins to reach as if to shake her hand, but his hand never leaves his pocket. 

Just then five people walk around the side of the plane, all laughing and smiling with each other. All except one. The tallest man, shock of black hair bouncing as he strides, has a face like marble, low brooding brow drawn closed.

“Hey!” Snoke calls when he spots them, turning away from the almost-handshake and going over to greet them. Rey shakes off the snub, returning her hand to her pocket, waiting by the cars with Poe.

“So, who is everyone?” A nervous flutter has taken root in her belly.

“Oh, you’ll figure it out,” he says unhelpfully. Rey glances at him, eyebrows pulling together, only to be treated to Poe’s smirk.

Exhaling her frustration, she goes back to watching the advancing family. There’s an older couple, both with salt and pepper hair, two men; one tall with dark hair, the other lithe and blazing ginger; and a tall, blonde woman. The tall dark haired one is shaking hands with Snoke, his head nodding somberly. He’s got quite an interesting face, Rey thinks. Somewhere between strong-featured and handsome. 

Unfortunately, Poe notices her staring. “Rule number three,” he says coyly. “Anyway, he’s taken.”

“Turn you down, did he?” Rey quips back. 

“Ha. No.” 

The family are on their way over again, and Rey is starting to itch with nerves. “So how do I, you know, talk to them?”

“Oh, you don’t talk to them.” The urgency in Poe’s voice has her eyes widening with concern. “You don’t look them directly in the eye.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” Poe nods earnestly.

The tall black haired one is striding over, long legs propelling him ahead of the others, bicep bulging as he carries a bag over his shoulder and another by his side. He catches Rey’s eye for a split-second before she can look away, suddenly terrified that she’s already fucked up this whole thing.

“Oh, and curtsey when you meet them,” Poe mutters when he’s just moments away. 

Rey swallows around the lump in her throat. He’s only feet away and making a beeline for them, brow still drawn. Just at the moment he reaches them, Rey sinks down into what she guesses a curtsey looks like, perfectly in time with him reaching around Poe for a hug.

“Alright, needle-cock?” 

“All good, you old slapper,” he says, grinning as he pulls away. “You okay down there?”

All the blood suddenly goes to Rey’s face. “Yeah, yeah, uh, just stretching.” 

“Right,” he says charitably. “So you’re the new helper?”

“Rey.”

“Ben.” He offers her a gloved hand, which she takes, palm sliding over the soft black leather. “And, for the record, I don’t actually have a needle-cock.”

“What’s this about your cock?” The blonde girl steps up, arm coming around Ben’s waist as she kisses him on the cheek. 

“Phasma!” Poe says excitedly, pulling her in for a hug

“Poe! Uh, I’m so excited to be back,” she says with a nose-wrinkling smile.

“This is Paige’s replacement, May.” Ben gestures at Rey.

“Rey,” she corrects him, smiling awkwardly.

“Oh.” Phasma nods at her, eyes lingering at her plain brown hair. 

“And this heartbreaker is her brother, Hux.” The other man had joined them, all freckled skin and fiery waves. Rey can see Poe batting his eyelashes at him already. 

“Hux!” he says, reaching forward for a final hug, this time doling out a kiss on each cheek. “The famous Hux.”

“Been talking about me, Solo?” Hux says, clapping Ben on the shoulder, despite being half a foot shorter. His eyelid drops in a wink. “Only good things I hope.” 

The older couple are just catching up, joining them with Snoke at their side. “This is my dad, Hansel ‘Call me Han’ Solo, and my mum, Leia.” 

The older woman hangs back, deep into a phone call, raising her hand in acknowledgement. Rey smiles and waves back.

“I do hope you’re keeping up, there will be a test later,” Ben says quietly, voice a rumble only she can hear. It sends a shiver down Rey’s spine.

“Dad, this is Rey,” he continues at full volume as Han approaches. 

“Call me Han,” he says, hand outstretched. He gives her a businessman’s handshake, brief but firm. “Thank you for stepping in. Just do whatever Poe does. Except that thing with his chin.”

“Well, it was a one-off,” Poe says, cringing.

“Speaking of one-offs,” Han says, turning as his wife approaches. 

Leia strides up, hugging Poe readily. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Poe replies.

“This is my wife, Leia,” Han says, hand gripping the small of her back. Leia’s eyes glide over Rey, who smiles at her, hoping for a fun and joking welcome, like the rest of the family. Instead, Leia’s face falls slightly as she takes in Rey. After a second her gaze cuts away, her pointed silence filling the space between them. “Who apparently has a throat infection.”

Poe and Rey trot over to help with the bags, two for each person, loading them into the cars. As they’re piling the last of them into the boot, Rey overhears Han and Leia talking.

“Give her a chance?” Han says, hand running down Leia’s arm.

“I didn’t say anything.” Leia’s voice is cool, completely lacking emotion, but Rey feels the sting of her words.

It’s a pitch black evening, the snow quiet and undisturbed. The chalet is not as serene, laughter sounding through the halls, as Poe pours gravy over the loin of beef Rey roasted that afternoon.

“And lovingly topped off with gravy, a la me.” 

He delicately grasps the edges of the plate, carrying it out of the kitchen. Eager not to be left out, Rey clasps the bowl full of brussel sprouts, following him.

Poe stops in the doorway. “Back office.” 

“What? Afraid the sprouts will steal your thunder?”

Laughter echoes through the house as Poe delivers the food. Glasses chink when he finishes pouring them wine. Glimpses of conversation waft into the kitchen, to Rey, stuck at the sink cleaning plate after plate. Cheering explodes from the dining room as Poe arrives with dessert.

The blonde girl, Phasma, is sitting on Ben’s lap when Rey finally enters the dining room to collect the dirty plates. The entire family have wide grins and strange black splotches on their faces.

“Ibble dibble number one, with 12 ibble dibbles calls,” Hux is saying, voice thick with almost a full bottle of wine, “ibble dibble number th…” He trails off as Poe leans over the table to pour more wine into his glass. 

Han erupts into laughter, everyone else shortly joining in, as Rey’s hand darts into the chuckling frey. But before she can grab the glass she’s aiming for, Phasma leans forward, a burnt cork in hand, to rub the stump on her brother’s face. Rey retreats momentarily to let them finish whatever strange game they’re playing, when Ben leans back, locking eyes with her. She can see the creep of intoxication in his gaze, the flush over his cheekbones. He hands her the glass she’d been reaching for, clears his throat, and returns to the game.

“Mmm, I want to be a profiterole,” Poe exclaims, finishing off the last of the desert, sitting on a kitchen counter, legs swinging as he chews.

“You know, they’re not that hard to make.” Poe shrugs at Rey, continuing his chewing. Rey chews on a question of her own, before finally asking, “So these guys fly in on a private jet, and their idea of fun is rubbing a burnt cork on each other’s faces?” 

Poe shrugs, eyes focused at a spot over Rey’s shoulder. He must have snuck a little too much wine.

“That’s insane,” Rey declares, shaking suds off her hands.

“Sanity’s overrated,” a deep voice declares behind her. Rey spins, hair whipping her across the cheeks, to see Ben standing, several dark cork prints on his face, in the doorway. Filling the doorway. “Tried it once,” he continues, “didn’t get it.”

His eyes meet Rey’s for a moment, but she drops them quickly, returning to her washing up. “Join in, Rey.” He grabs another bottle of wine from the pantry. “We don’t bite. Well, my mum bites a bit.” A crooked smile slips along his mouth. “The rest of us just nibble, ibble, dibble…” Drunken eyes wander off. “You!” They suddenly focus on Poe. “It’s time!”

“No. No, there’s absolutely no way — ” Poe protests, but Ben grabs him by the hand, pulling him off the counter and into the dining room. Through the house the family chants ‘Poe! Poe! Poe!’ as Rey continues washing.

Eventually the temptation to see the spectacle grows too much and Rey creeps over to the dining room doorway, in time to watch Poe’s rendition of ‘Ode to Joy’ in fart noises. The collar of his shirt is pulled aside, revealing the length of his collarbone, and Rey catches Hux’s eyes wandering over it as he performs. Part way through the song, Hux joins in, accompanying the melody with some moderately successful beatboxing. The rest of the family find this hilarious, even Ben, who’s rumbling laugh is closest to Rey, still hanging on the edge of the gathering. Even Rey has to chuckle slightly, watching Hux attempt to do the robot as he beatboxes. 

“See, this is my idea of fun,” Ben’s eyes bob down to her, and she’s a little taken aback that he even noticed her in the room. “You should join in.”

The rest of the family have started singing along to the chorus.

“Unfortunately, I’m only grade one at... whatever that is.” Rey earns a crooked smile from Ben for that.

She slips away before anyone else notices she’s there, returning to the dishes. Her phone rings just as she finishes, and it’s a quiet moment so she answers.

“Hey, Dad.” The line is a little staticy. “You eating alright?”

“Five a day,” Obi-wan answers. “How’s it going?”

“It’s fine.” Rey doesn’t need to go over the stuff with Poe right now. Not that there’s much to go over. It’s basically what she expected.

“What are the people like?”   
  


“They’re, um…” Some high pitched screaming draws her gaze out the window, to where a shirtless Hux is jumping into the hot tub, joining Ben and Phasma, bottle held overhead.

“Who wants more champagne?” he shouts.

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “...Fine.” 

“Well, hey, if it doesn’t work out,” Obi-wan says helpfully, “You can always nick one of their paintings.” 

A harsh beeping echoes on the line. “What’s that noise?”

“Oh, er,” Something clatters at Obi-wan’s side. “Nothing.” The beeping gets louders. “No, it’s—it’s next door. There’s a truck reversing, um..” 

Rey chuckles down the phone. “Sure.”

“Listen, Rey,” his tone turns serious, “I really miss you, you know?”

“I know, Dad. Me too.” Rey blinks away the prickle behind her eyes.

  
  


The next day dawns with glittering sun over snow covered peaks. 

“Poe! Poe!” Rey shakes him hard on the shoulder, trying to wake him up. “It’s seven am.”

Poe groans back at her, hair splayed around the pillow, but makes no move. After a second, Rey sighs and straightens. “Rule two?”

Rey has absolutely no idea what to cook for breakfast. Omelette seems like a safe option she decides, as she quickly whips some eggs together. But it’s a little plain. She peers into the fridge, looking for inspiration. 

“Is this caviar?” Phasma says, holding her plate up, inspecting the omelette.

Hux is leaning over the table, holding his head in one hand. Han looks surprisingly chipper, but Leia has her designer sunglasses pushed high around her eyes, tentatively sipping orange juice. Only Ben doesn’t look tired, cheeks and full lips flushed.

“Sure looks like it,” Han answers, not unkindly.

“Well, dig in everyone,” Rey hears Leia say as she returns to the kitchen. “Enjoy your £300 omelettes.” 

Her stomach drops and heat blooms across her face as she scurries back to their bedroom. 

“Jesus, Rey!” Poe says when she tells him what happened. “You  _ have  _ to wake me. I don’t need you making me look bad.”

“No kidding.” Poe squeals as he looks in the mirror over the sink — seeing the black cork marks that cover his face. At least that lifts Rey’s spirits a bit. 

“So what am I supposed to do all day?” Rey asks as Poe straps on his ski boots. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll find something.” He hops up, grabbing his skis. “Look around!” he calls, halfway out the door.

Rey sighs. Everyone has left the house, off to the mountain for the rest of the day. She hums as she browses their ski selection, various brightly coloured poles and helmets, a small wooden sledge. An old snowboard, shoved at the top of one of the shelving units, catches her eye. She’s got to stand on a chair to reach it, but once it’s down Rey notices it’s about her size. She cocks her head to the side, an idea forming.

Moments later, she’s outside, on the slope that runs beside the house, bare hands numb in the cold. Sitting on her bum, ignoring the wet patch forming on her jeans, she straps her feet in, making sure to tuck her trainer laces safely away. Skiers and snowboards fly down around her, some of them as young as 10 or 11. 

She stops to tighten one of her laces, nudging the board with her foot slightly. It starts sliding down the hill, picking up speed. 

“Oh shit!” Rey leaps up to run after it. “Wait! Stop!”

She has to chase it almost a hundred yards down the hill before she catches it. Shoes and socks soaking, and the tips of her fingers turning pink in the cold, she returns to the chalet. There must be something better to do.

In the end, Rey settles on baking a cake instead of chasing a snowboard around in the cold. It comes out of the tin cleanly, a nice even golden brown. She’s just bending down to put the tin back in the oven when Poe appears, swooping by and grabbing the cake, taking it through to the Solos sitting around the living room.

“Poe, this cake is supreme,” Ben says, taking a generous bite from the slice he served him. 

“Thank you, Ben,” Poe replies with a smile. Handing across another slice, Rey frowns at him.

“Mmm, sure is,” Hux agrees through a mouthful.

“This place is so magical,” Phasma says, massaging Ben’s shoulders as he eats.

“It is when you’re here.” A charming smile dances across Han’s face.

“Well, enjoy it while you can,” Leia says. “You won’t be skiing this much when you’re starting a family.”

Ben tightens at that, sitting up from where he was leaning against Phasma. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

“No, Snoogles, you don’t,” Phasma jokes, pulling him back against her.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for any of this,” Han joins in, lifting the tension. “I mean, do I look old enough to be a grandfather?” Ben opens his mouth but Han cuts him off, “Don’t answer that!”

Rey goes around, pouring tea for those that want it. She’s filling Snoke’s cup as he looks up at her, oily smile in place. 

“Thank you,” he says, hand bouncing once, twice, three times on the round swell of her arse. Grimacing, she jogs her arm slightly, letting the stream of hot tea fall over his crotch. 

“Oh! Ah! Ah!” he jumps back, scrabbling for a napkin to get the scalding liquid off him. 

“Oops,” Rey says, returning the pot to the tray. She swears she catches a glimpse of a smile on Ben’s face.

The next few days all take the same shape — Rey wakes up Poe and they serve breakfast, before everyone disappears up the mountain, leaving Rey alone. One day she manages to find a pair of ski boots that don’t rub her feet badly, and a pale pink, tie-dye snow suit to keep her dry when she’s sitting, arse on the snow, trying to strap herself into the board. She situates her goggles over her beanie and pulls on her neon mittens. Taking a deep breath, she prepares to stand up.

Her first attempt leaves her falling back from halfway up. Huffing, she rolls over, stomach to the snow, and tries walking her hands back towards her feet, damp arse shoved in the air. That’s kind of successful, except now she’s facing the wrong direction. But still, she’s up, and smiles a little, testing her balance.

That’s when some guy comes flying down the slope, a blur of dark skin and blue jacket catching the air right in front of her, his cry echoing hers as she realises he’s going to hit her. He catches her in a hug as they go tumbling down the snowy hill. Landing on his front, the guy looks up at her in shock.

“Oh! You crazy freak!” he shouts. “Watch where you’re going!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” 

The man shakes his head at her, breathing hard. “Stay safe, Peanut Butter. Hang outside on the rip side!”

Rey’s face scrunches with confusion. “Yeah, and in English?”

He looks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Hang outside on the rip side.”

Like that the man jumps up, catching his balance with the ease of experience, and takes off down the slope. No closer to understanding what he said, Rey deflates against the snow, sighing deeply.

The next few days are a blur of pulling the snowboard up the hill, breath heaving out plumes in the cold air, weaving her way through the tide of skiers, and sliding down, sometimes managing to get a foot strapped in before she ends up on her belly, slipping over the snowy ground. She tries everything; crab walking as she tries to straighten, rolling on her stomach, bunny hopping on her hands and knees, even sliding face first down the slope. Once or twice she ends up just laying there, chewing on a handful of cool crisp snow, muscles thrumming with exertion. 

She’s making her way up the slope on her bum, feet strapped into the board, as she passes the guy who crashed into her before.

“You blow at boarding, Peanut,” he says with a glittering smile, “but you sure are styling.”

Rey looks down over her eclectic outfit. “I take it you’re not into pink all-in-ones, then?” she says, stopping to catch her breath.

The guy laughs, and half-walks half-slides over, one foot still strapped to his board. “Finn,” he says, offering her a hand. “Single guy from Finland.”

“Rey. Not interested from England,” she says smiling and shaking it.

  
“Ha!” Finn grins back at her. “You know the skateboarding?”

“A bit.”

“Same, same, but different.” He holds out both hands. “You want some help?”

“Yeah,” Rey says, nodding. She grabs on as he pulls her to her feet, so they’re standing parallel to each other.

“Okay, in skateboarding, weight back.” Finn leans back, bending his right leg. Rey mirrors him, the movement familiar. “In snowboarding, weight centred.” She copies him again, settling into the new posture.

In a series of shuffles, Finn orients them so they’re facing downhill, and they’re going, Rey half leaning into his hands for balance. But then her muscle memory takes over, holding her up, compensating for the different stance. Before she knows it, she’s leaning back, loosening her grip on Finn’s hands.

“Turn with your shoulders, not the knees,” Finn offers as he lets go with one hand, then the other, leaving her to glide down the hill on her own. 

“You’re a natural,” he says, raising his arms. “It’s like skateboarding, huh?”

Rey feels it herself, the same jump in her stomach, the same turn in her muscles, the wind on her face. A giggle sounds in her chest, as she picks up speed, turning over and balancing with ease. 

“That was pretty cool,” she says to Finn once they get to the bottom of the hill. 

“That was nothing, Peanut.” Looks like the nickname is sticking. “Let’s get high!” Rey stalls in her tracks. “Up!” He’s pointing to the ski lift a short ways in front of them.

“Oh! No, I can’t,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m on the budget tour.”

With a knowing smile, Finn insists, “Peanut, follow me.”

He leads her through the queue, and when they get to the turnstiles, Finn smoothly hops over, his snowboard sliding in time with him. Rey does the same, laughing as they clip into the lift. 

It’s a beautiful ride up the mountain, watching the skiers below, laughing at their shared delinquency. 

“Hey, look,” Finn says, pointing at a poster on the first pillar of the lift. It’s brightly coloured, advertising a €25,000 grand prize. “That’s the biggest snowboarding competition in Tyrol. Every year I enter, every year I face-plant.” He chuckles roughly. “But this year, I’ll rock it! Hey — ” he swats her on the shoulder “We’ll enter together.”

“Why? Because I’m such a pro-boarder?” Rey says wryly.

“In three months, maybe.” 

Rey shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Finn laughs, elbowing her in the side. “Come on. It’s easy for you. You’re a skateboarder. I pulled a 360 my first day on the board.”

“And broke your neck doing it, right?”

“No, my leg.” They both dissolve into laughter.

  
  


That evening the Organa-Solos are hosting a dinner party for all their friends, complete with trays and trays of tiny hors-d'oeuvres and a crate of champagne. 

“Just so you know, I’ve given Ben your mother’s ring,” Leia is saying as she strides down the hallway, fastening a diamond earring. 

“That’s a coincidence.” Han follows her, adjusting his cufflinks. “I’ve given him her dress, I’m sure he’ll look lovely.”

“Oh, it is not funny,” Leia chastises him, with a light slap on the arm. “The marquee is pencilled for June.”

“It was… quite funny.”

That’s when Rey reaches the hallway, turning just in front of them, carrying a tray of tiny food towards the dining room. Leia’s appraising gaze glides over her, and her face falls.

“Didn’t you get the message? You’re joining us. Dress up.”

Rey looks down at her simple dark top and skirt combo, delicate gold chain — her only jewelry — dangling around her neck. “I…” but Leia’s already walked away. Deflated she sighs, “Did.”

“Don’t worry, she made me change too,” Han hangs back to say. “Drainpipe jeans and winkle-pickers aren’t very this season, apparently.”

He drops Rey a crooked smile which she returns as he follows his wife.

Poe is entirely too eager to help Rey get ready a second time. “Lippy,” he says, dropping the small pink tube into Rey’s hands. “Liner. Lashes.” More things clatter into her hands. “Accessories.” A string of pearls join them. “I want those back. And… hair gum. Use sparingly.” It balances on top of the pile in Rey’s arms.

“Hair gum?”

Poe nods at her encouragingly.

“Why do you have all this stuff?”

“What? A guy can’t have hobbies?”

Rey does her best, with Poe looking over her shoulder, tutting slightly when it looks like she’s gone too light on the eyeliner, or not curled her hair enough. Sighing in the mirror, Rey has to admit, she does look, somewhat, pretty.

But there’s still a job to do, and she’s trotting back into the kitchen, when she spots Ben in front of the hallway mirror, trying to tie a black bowtie. He smiles when he sees her, and Rey ignores the flutter it causes in her stomach. It’s the suit. She’s always liked a man in a suit.

“And like that, she became a swan.”

“So I used to be an ugly duckling?” she teases, grabbing the oven mitts.

Ben turns back to his reflection, starting the knot again. “Someone needs to learn how to take a compliment.” He tries again, but gets distracted as Rey opens the oven, bending over to rescue the chocolate cake.

“Ah, it all makes sense now.”

“Yeah, I’m just back office.” Ben smiles, returning to his tie for the third time. He clears his throat, still not managing to make it work.

“It’s a shoelace,” Rey says, across the kitchen.

“Uh, it’s a bow tie.”

“No.” Rey rolls her eyes. “It’s a shoelace knot. Come here — ” 

Slowly, Ben steps up to her, standing a full head above her. He clears his throat again as she takes hold of the tie.

“Didn’t think you’d be the kind of girl who knew how to tie a bow tie.” His breath ghosts over her face, and Rey breathes in a waft of his cologne, sandalwood and spice and smoke. 

“And here’s me thinking you were the kind of boy who would.” Her eyes flick up to his, meeting his warm whiskey gaze. 

Ben chuckles, deep and low, the sound humming through his chest to Rey’s hands as she adjusts the knot. 

“Big night for you, then?” Ben nods his head, Adam’s apple bobbing. “There,” she reaches around his neck, turning down the starched collar. “Licensed to kill.”

“Or be killed.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, eyes melting into Rey’s as he backs up, finally turning to check his reflection in the mirror. Rey sways, chuckling as she watches him. With a final grin, he leaves the kitchen, and Rey hears his deep voice from the other room, “Right, who needs a drink?”

“Oh, Poe! What are these?” Hux asks emphatically, as he fills his glass with champagne.

“Mini burgers.” He shakes his head, chocolate locks cascading around his cheekbones. “Don’t blame me.”

“Hmm, they are sensational.” He swallows, watching Poe fill his glass, almost to the brim. “Ha, are you trying to get me drunk?” He drops him a sparkling smirk.

“Just helping you on your way.” 

“Rule three,” Rey murmurs, joining him with a bottle of her own. 

“Oh, shut up.” Rey leans over, filling two glasses, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “What are you grinning at?”

“Nothing.” Her smile grows wider. “Just think I’m starting to get the hang of this, that’s all.” They wander a little further through the room. “Oh, the cake’s on the oven, the beef’s nearly done and the mousse has set.” She fills Han’s glass, earning a soft ‘thank you’.

“Wow, did you hear that?” she says as they continue through the room.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Poe waves her away. “Don’t get used to it.” He grabs the half empty bottle in Rey’s hand. “Go grab a fresh one of these.”

“Wow, what responsibility. Do I get a performance star?” 

Poe’s face wrinkles in confusion. “What?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rey says, shaking her head slightly.

The champagne bottles are all laid out on a table in the corner of the room. Rey grabs one, tearing away the foil and twisting the cap off. She tries to twist the cork out, but it’s really stuck in there. She needs more leverage, so she grips the bottle between her knees, twisting hard and just hears Ben’s, “Rey, wait. Rey…” followed by Phasma’s “Oh, dear. Stand back.” before the cork pops out, and flies off, followed shortly by a blast of bubbly liquid exploding in her face, up her nose, into her eyes. 

Everything stings, her head ringing and thumping, as her entire top is soaked. Breathing heavily, she just manages to open her eyes to see Phasma, Leia, and half a dozen others laughing at her. Only Ben looks concerned, reaching over to help, but before he can, she flees from the room, face burning hot. 

“What a waste, that was vintage,” Phasma’s voice follows her out onto the balcony. Blood is trickling down her nose so Rey rips a tissue in half, plugging her nose with it and tilting her head back. The back of her eyes is burning, and she tries her hardest not to ruin her makeup any more than it’s already been ruined.

A knock sounds from inside the door, and Rey looks over to see Ben standing there, perfect hair and suit. Eyes flying wide, she spins, hands cupping around her bleeding nose. 

“Doctor’s orders,” Ben says, stepping forward, a glass of champagne held towards her. “The good news is, you’ve already got the headache, so you can drink as much as you like.”

She’s just managed to wipe away the last of the blood when he reaches her. He’s got a soft smile, and Rey blushes under his gaze.

“I’ve got to go help Poe.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” a massive hand waves away her concern. “I think Hux has him covered.”

He offers the glass again. 

“Thanks,” Rey says, taking it and downing it in one. “Ah! That hit the spot.”

Ben chuckles next to her. “It ought to, it’s — er — 500 quid a bottle.”

Rey’s eyes fly open. “Five hun — Think I’ll just take the cash next time.”

She half-laughs half-coughs, blinking back brimming tears. “Oh, what am I doing here? I’m stuck in a parallel reality where people drink my monthly salary every ten minutes.”

Beside her, Ben nods solemnly. “You’re right. It’s obscene. We’re aliens. My mother has a tail, have you seen it?” He tosses Rey a crooked smile.

“Your mum is the scariest woman I’ve ever met.”

Ben leans against the bannister beside her, and she can almost feel his warmth soaking through her sleeve. He sighs, watching his plume of breath dance with hers in the frosty winter air.

“Do you want to know how she met my dad?” Rey nods lightly beside him. “Air Stewardess. Concorde.”

“Your dad was an air stewardess?”

Ben chews his lip as he tries not to smile. “That was before she joined the airforce. But the point is, she’s not that scary.” 

Rey smiles, looking at her shoes. She doesn’t know why he’s trying to cheer her up, but for some reason it’s working.

“Well, look, I should be getting back.”

She manages to hide the disappointment in her, “Yeah, of course,” as he retreats down the balcony. Her eyes can’t help but linger on him as he opens the door, yellow light catching his silky dark hair and high cheekbones, voices carrying through into the still night. He hesitates for just a moment, hand on the nob, before entering the party once more, leaving Rey in the pale moonlight.

  
  


The Organa-Solos fly home the next day. Rey and Poe are unloading the bags at the airstrip, when Ben and Leia jump out of the other car.

“Mum, can we talk about this later?” Ben says, voice harsher than usual. 

“She won’t wait forever, Ben.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue anymore. He catches Rey’s eye, who’s waiting with his bag. 

“Ah, thank you,” he says, taking it from her.

“Everything alright?” she asks. The corner of Ben’s mouth quirks up slightly.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Rey’s not sure if she believes him. “We’ll be back in February,” he continues. “See if you can figure out the whole champagne-bottle thing by then.”

Rey nods, half-smiling. “Yep, I will practice daily.” 

“Knock yourself out.” Ben smiles as he leans in. Rey raises her hand for a handshake, but he’s coming in for a hug, and before she can correct herself her hand collides with the hard wall of his stomach, soft material of his dark t-shirt, warm where her knuckles graze it. 

“Oh,” the sound reverberates through him.

“Oh!” Her’s is distinctly higher pitched. Blushing, she mutters, “Trying to shake your hand, punch you in the stomach.”

Ben laughs, looking down. His hand pats her on the shoulder. “So not cool.” Rey chews her lip at him. 

Beside them, Hux is saying goodbye to Poe. “Uh, yeah, I’ll put the photos on Facebook.”

Poe’s fingers card through his feathery hair. “Well… Poke me.”

Hux’s answers with a smile, crooked in just the right way, freckles dancing across his cheeks. Rey can see Poe batting his eyelashes at him, and rolls her eyes, pulling a face. Luckily, Han saves her before Hux and Poe can get truly disgusting.

“Right, okay kids,” he says, handing them each an envelope. “This is for all your hard work. Thank you so much. And Rey, you know you get a lift pass too? Just charge it to the chalet. Unless you prefer the cash?” 

Rey hesitates for a second, mouth open, before she decides. “A lift pass would be great.”

“Okay,” Han smiles at her. “Alright, Kid, let’s go.” He claps Ben on the shoulder. 

“It’s a private plane, Dad, it waits.”

“It waits but I won’t.”

Ben sighs. “Desperate to get back to work.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll quit,” Han quips back. “And next time we can hitchhike here with Uncle Chewie.”

“A father-son adventure,” Ben says wryly. “There’s a first time for everything, right?” Rey seems to be the only one who catches the dark note in his voice. 

They wave as the Organa-Solos board the plane, squinting into the setting sun.

“Poke me?” Rey asks Poe, eyes fixed ahead. Beside her, Poe exhales roughly.

“Piss off.”


	3. Chapter 3

“A two hundred euro tip for one week?” Obi-wan’s voice strains down the phone as he bends over for some reason. Something bings in the background. “Are you sure you’re just cooking?”

Rey snorts, thumbing through the bills once again. It’s still €200. “I’ll put it in the bank when I can.” She folds it safely away in her pocket. “You okay?”

Something thumps on Obi-wan’s side. It sounds suspiciously like frozen lasagna. “Yeah, solid.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, uh, sound.” His voice fades with a clatter of cutlery, and Rey can’t help smiling a little. “Don’t let them work you too hard, love.”

Rey’s sitting by a blazing fire wrapped in the fleeciest blanket she’s ever seen. “I won’t.” 

“Alright.” 

He hangs up to deal with whatever mess he’s gotten himself into at that end. Rey can just imagine him trying to work the microwave, giving up, and just licking a slice of lasagna until it defrosts. It’d be funnier if she wasn’t worried that was what actually happened. It was still pretty funny though.

The next day she’s back at it on the slope with Finn. They’re going to try some tricks today, in preparation for the competition. Finn convinced her to enter, just for fun, and even though Rey is trying her best to be realistic, she has to admit that twenty-five grand prize money is a pretty good motivator. 

“Right, Finland, let’s do this. Where do we start?” she says, safely strapped in.

“Well, in slopestyle,” Finn says, pulling on his gloves, “you’re scored on your tricks on the rails, and the jump you pull at the end. You smell me?”

Rey nods, rolling her shoulders out. “Yes, I smell you. Unfortunately.”

Finn smirks but ignores her quip. “Think about the run. Only the run.” He raises a finger to his head, “Be,” and then points at his feet, “the board.”

Rey exhales, nodding. She can do this. She  _ can  _ do this. Finn pulls his goggles down, jumping up.

“Let’s get tricky!” he yells, fists pumping in the air. Rey yells too, letting the adrenaline flow through her. Finn slides off, shouting a high-pitched, “Yahhoo!” as he jumps and glides experly over the box just downhill of them. 

Rey stands to copy him, muttering to herself. “Right, come on, Rey.” 

She adjusts her goggles and heads off, towards the same box. Getting onto it goes basically according to plan, her stomach leaping as she leaves the ground, but when it comes time to land — not so much. She lands sideways, slipping onto her bum and sliding down, coming to a stop sprawled in the snow on her back. She huffs out a breath. Well, she’s got to try that again.

And she does. Again. And again. And again. A slower approach is less successful, running out of momentum and toppling off the box. She slides off on her back a few more times. Catches the side of her board on the corner, slipping over. Her muscles ache and she’s breathing heavy, but with each failed attempt her determination grows. Each time she’s closer and closer, until, finally, the back of the board glides along the box, both feet balancing, her knees bent, and then, she’s on the snow again, still upright, still standing.

“Whoo! Yes!” She pumps a fist in the air. 

She does it half a dozen times before she decides to stop for a drink, coming to a stop at the edge of the snow park. There’s another snowboarder there, a woman, small and impossibly wrinkled, holding her board under her arm. 

“Hey,” she says to Rey. “Nice moves.”

“Hey,” Rey puffs. “Thanks.”

“You do realise you’re riding a beginner board from, like, the sixteenth century?”

“I thought the sixteenth century was the golden age of snowboarding.”

The woman shakes her head, smiling. “Go to the rental shop and pick yourself up a park board. You’ll have more fun on that, trust me.”

Rey nods, smiling at the friendly stranger. 

“And ask for Luke. Tell him Maz sent you — he’ll sort you out.”

“Thanks,” Rey says again. Maz smiles, shrugging.

“Stay safe out there.” 

In a flurry of snow, weathered skin and bright blue jacket, Maz takes off, joining up with a group loitering by the lift.

Rey takes her advice later that afternoon, wandering into the bustling rental shop. She’s not really sure what she’s looking for, eyes browsing the eclectic patterns and shining helmets. An itching worry surfaces at just how much this might cost as she flips over a price tag, heart dropping at the number. But, she supposes, there’s no harm just looking.

“ _ Kann ich dir helfen? _ ” a bushy—bearded man asks. Rey blinks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to remember what to say. In the end she gives up.

“Oh, I’m just looking, thanks.” Stupid, useless GCSE German.

“Rental is only 80 euros a week.” The grey-beared man comes closer. “And half price for staff.”

“Well, I’m staff.” She really hopes this is Luke. “And, um, actually, Maz told me to come by.”

Luke’s eyebrows raise in recognition. “Okay, fine, thirty.” He walks over to a display of sleek looking boards in red, green and blue. “Freestyle board, boots and helmet. For an extra five you can get a LightSaber, fastest new board of the season.”

Rey runs her hand over the glossy sky blue, the other folding and unfolding the tip money in her pocket. She pulls it out, laying the notes flat, looking at the printed 50s and 20s staring up at her. She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. But if it helps her win twenty-five grand, well, it was an investment, right?

A small smile grows on her lips. “Cool, deal.”

What a difference a better board makes. It just feels… right. Like it’s a part of her. She lands the box jump on her first try. She even manages to go over the pipe. Every turn is more controlled, every move more effective. It’s like singing in her veins, the way riding the LightSaber makes her feel.

And Rey has to admit, she looks good in her new kit too, miles better than the dumpy, tie-dye all in one she had before. The helmet, the boots, even the jacket and trousers Luke threw in, they all make her feel better, more professional, like someone who actually belongs on the slope. Now, she just has to work hard to prove it, and make sure there’s a return on her tip money investment.

“Poe!” Rey hears Finn from across the park. She spots him approaching Rose and Poe sitting on the snowbank.

“Finn!” he responds, giving him a hug. 

“Check it out! It’s your buddy, Rey.” He must be pointing at her. She focuses on landing this trick, gliding over the picnic table with natural ease.

“I thought you said she hadn’t been in the mountains before.” The surprise in Rose’s voice sends the corners of Rey’s mouth listing upwards.

“She hadn’t,” Poe sounds just as shocked.  _ Good.  _

She stays at the snow park until it closes, trudging through the snow, muscles aching with satisfaction. Her dad left a voicemail a little while ago, and she checks it, smiling as she walks home.

“So, I’ve got my first interview tomorrow,” his familiar voice says. “And, well, I’ve been good, going through the statements, um, but I saw that tip money hasn’t gone in.”

Rey’s stomach sinks, but she’s still too pumped from her day to be too worried. He’ll understand. 

“I mean, it’s probably their fault, but I just thought I’d let you know.” She shucks off the layer of guilt with her jacket as she enters the house. 

“And, hey, aubergines. Whoo-hoo! My new favourite food — Who knew?” She smiles again. “Alright, Rey. Love you.”

Rey means to tell her dad that she actually spent the tip money. She really does. It’s just that she’s so tired that first day, and Finn messages her first thing the next, and then she’s caught up in the flurry of landed jumps and getting trick after trick right. That leaping euphoria in her belly can’t be lying to her.  _ This  _ was what she was meant to be doing.

So when the alarm wakes her up blaring, two weeks down the road, Rey doesn’t think twice about crawling out of bed like she has everyday the past fortnight — with a smile on her face. She’s already in her ski clothes, half-eaten banana in hand, when Poe wanders in, tousled hair and bleary eyes. 

“Oh, didn’t hear you get up.”

“I haven’t.” Poe heads straight to bed, collapsing face first onto his pillow. Rey doesn’t envy him as she heads out the door; she’s never been the partying type. Never had the friends for it. 

It’s snowing pretty heavily that morning, several inches piled up on the banisters, flurries still falling as she wades towards the main lift. It’s abandoned, grey gates pulled down over the turnstiles. A recording in German is playing over the speaker, presumably telling her the mountain is closed due to the weather. She checks the other one, the one that only goes halfway up. But it’s deserted too. Sighing, hood up, she treks back to the chalet.

Rey decides to spend the snow day giving her kit some much needed TLC, and is set up in the living room, waxing her board, when Poe finally rises from his hangover. He plops down next to her, flicking on the TV and playing some boxing game that sends him whooping and hollering whenever he passes a level. 

“Level nine! Yeah, baby!” Rey doesn’t look up, and Poe is clearly fed up with her lack of engagement. “You really think you’re going to win that pro?”

Rey’s just about to repeat his words in a mocking voice, when Snoke appears with his characteristic oily, “Hello,” towel in hand and leopard print bathrobe loosely closed. 

“Hey, Smokie.” Poe clearly feels like annoying someone, and Snoke is so creepy that Rey can hardly argue. “What’s with the towel, Smokie?”

“My name is Snoke,” he says, aggression flaring in his voice. Far too much withered skin peaks through the robe for Rey’s liking. “Mr. Solo, he asked me to test the hot tub.”

“Did he now?” Rey doesn’t know where Poe is going with this.

“ _ Ja _ .” A grin stretches across Snoke’s face, baring his stained teeth. “There is, you must know, room for more than just one.” He pulls the robe aside slightly, placing a hand on his hip, and revealing red budgy smugglers. It’s a sight Rey could have gone her whole life without seeing.

“That is so funny,” Poe turns to Rey as he continues, “because Rey and I were just saying how much we would love to share a hot tub with Snoke.”

“For sure?”

Rey wants to gag at the words, but the mischievous note in Poe’s tone has her playing along. 

“Yeah.” It’s a little higher pitched than she intended. “But the problem is,” she catches Poe’s eye, “we don’t have our swimsuits.” She tops it off with a generous batting of eyelashes.

“Who needs swimsuits?” Snoke asks a little too quickly, following it up with a wheeze of a laugh.

“Yeah, Rey, who needs swimsuits?” Poe is staring at her in mock confusion.

Rey can’t help her grin.“You are so right!” 

“And maybe, when we’re out there, you could give me a back rub.”

“And then we can, like, frolic naked in the snow and…”

Simultaneously they turn, wide-eyed and open mouthed, trailing off as they look at Snoke, blush blooming against his potholed chest. 

“Yeah,” he grunts. Rey and Poe explode into laughter, Rey throwing her head back at the look on his disgusting withered face. He stalls for a moment, almost short-circuiting, before the penny drops. 

“Oh, ha, ha! I understand. The famous English humour. I forget,” he says as he leaves, Rey glad to see the back of that leopard print robe. Poe giggles for a little longer as she goes back to waxing the board. 

The next day the blizzard continues. And the next. On the third day she’s reduced to yelling at the weather.

“Stop snowing!” Rey shouts off the balcony. Her voice echoes off the still trees, the silver plumes continuing to fall.

Desperately bored, she resorts to watching snowboarding videos on the internet, trying to copy their arm motions, leg motions; at first alone, and then standing on her bed strapped into her board. She practices jumping up, lifting the board off the bed. Then tipping off the edge, as if it was the block in the park, face planting on Poe’s bed several times. Eventually she manages to jump off the bed and land, still standing, on a pile of pillows on the floor, shouting her victory.

Poe is still parked on the settee that evening, as Rey wanders through for water. Distinct beeping sounds, but she guesses it’s just whatever game Poe has moved onto now, until he shouts.

“It’s your birthday!?”

Rey peeks her head around the door. “What makes you think that?”

Tutting, Poe hands her her phone, screen open on a picture message from Beabee. It’s a selfie of her smiling in front of a tray of chips, arranged to spell out ‘Happy Birthday!’. Affection bubbles out of Rey in a chuckle, which she quickly quells.

“Want to look at anything else?” she asks Poe. “Bank statement? Knicker drawer?”

Poe isn’t listening. “The Cantina, now.”

“I can’t. I’m saving.” Plus, Rey isn’t one for partying. 

“I thought you were about to win twenty—five grand?” Poe says, already pulling his boots on. Rey cuts her eyes at him. “I don’t think you need to save. Come on.”

“No, Poe. I’m not going,” she says definitively.

  
  


“Peanut in the house!” Finn shouts over the thumping music, arms raised. “Ha!” They come down, one on either side of Rey and Poe, pulling them into a hug. 

“You owe me ten euros, Poe.” A triumphant smile stretches his face. “He bet me you’d never come in here,” he tells Rey. “He said you were too much of a — How do you say? ‘Chav’? What is a ‘chav’?”

Rey is making her way towards the bar. If she’s going to put up with this, on her birthday of all days, she’s going to have beer in her while she does. 

“Yeah, Poe, what is a ‘chav’?” she asks with mock ignorance.

“I — er — I didn’t. His english is awful,” he says, pulling a crumpled note from his pocket and slapping it on Finn’s chest, who looks entirely too pleased at the violence. “Go buy yourself some vegetables.”

Rey grins as she steps up to the bar. There’s a familiar looking grey beard behind it. “Hey, Luke, this is Rey,” Poe says over her shoulder.

“We already met,” the man from the rental shop says. Clearly he wears more than one hat around here. “Maz says you look sweet with the LightSaber.” 

He nods his head to the other end of the bar, where Maz is leaning, a beer in one hand and a shot in the other. A few hulking looking men are laughing around her, presumably at something she’s said. 

“Do you know who that is?” Finn yells in Rey’s ear. 

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s Maz.”

“Maz Kanata,” he says with reverence. “She won like a thousand medals. First person in the world to pull a backside rodeo.”

“First person to break their back in three places learning it,” Luke says, as he pours three shots of clear liquid. “Now she needs a painkiller every time she rides.”

“Insane,” Finn says, stepping up to the bar. “What’s she doing here?”

“The competition. Her big comeback.” Half a smile tugs at Luke’s mouth. “She reckons this girl has game.”

Finn laughs at that, pulling Rey under his arm, chin coming over her head as he hugs her close, pride reverberating in his voice. “I taught her everything she knows.”

Luke finishes off the shots, finally igniting them into blue flames. He passes them to Poe on a wooden platter, and he holds them towards Rey.

“Alright. Happy birthday!” he shouts. “Blow out your candles!”

Finn waggles his fingers next to the flaming shots as Rey chews her lip. “Ooooo…” he starts off, crescendoing to a “Waahoooo!” as she finally lets loose a gust of air. Poe joins in, cheering as the alcohol is extinguished by her breath. The shots go down like they’re still on fire, but the burn reminds Rey what it feels like to be alive. Good music is playing, so they grab another drink and head to the dancefloor, where they find Rose, and a bunch of her friends. Head banging, Poe pulls her into a squealing hug, and Rey bobs along, trying not to feel left out.

But soon the alcohol has her feeling free, shaking her hair out to the music, jumping in time with Poe and Finn and even Rose. She heads back to the bar, picking up beer for everyone, and they do the same for her, several times. Laughter seems to be sewn into their veins, as they make up their own moves to the upbeat music, pulling faces as they down shot after shot. At some point in the night Rey pulls Maz into a tight hug, thanking her for something she doesn’t quite remember, or for everything at once. But before she can elaborate she’s distracted, by Poe and Finn making out in a twist of pulled shirts and hands through hair. A smile splits her face and Rey dissolves into laughter.

They end up, the four of them, on the stage, jumping alongside the lead singer of whichever band is playing. Hair flying everywhere, alcohol humming through her body, Rey’s never felt more like she belongs right where she is. 

“It’s just a few people. Come on!” Poe is imploring her to let some people come back to the chalet as the bar closes.

“But it’s rule number one,” her drunken resistance is futile.

“But the night is young, and so are we.” Well, how can Rey argue with that?

Somehow, the next thing Rey remembers is the house swarming with people. Dancers are flailing on every floor, limbs hanging over the balconies, music thumping through the high—tech bass—boosted stereo system. She’s standing on the first floor balcony, beer in hand, grinning for some reason.

“This is your fault,” she says, turning to Poe.

“You’re welcome.” Their glasses chink together, golden liquid sloshing up the sides. “Oh, come on!”

Poe’s hand collides with Rey’s bicep as he tears off the patio, tugging her along. Five minutes later, Finn is squatting, laughing and screaming, butt naked save for a beanie, throwing snow over himself, while the rest of them cackle in the hot tub. 

“How long have you been…” Rey searches for the word. “Together?”

“What?” Poe slurs. Rey gestures between him and the naked Finn. “Oh, I mean, we’re not together.”

“My balls are ice cream!” Finn shouts, leaping back into the warm water, clutching himself in one hand. He exhales a relieved, “Ahh,” as Poe pulls him into a kiss. 

“Ah ha ha,” Rey shrieks, hiding behind the singular glove she has on. 

“Chill out! Chill out!” Rey thinks Rose is chanting at Poe, until he joins in, both their gazes trained on Rey. She giggles nervously.

“Chill out! Chill out!” the chanting continues 

”Chill out!” Finn shouts beside her. All three of them pump their fists in the air, splashing water on the frozen ground.

“Chill out! Chill out!” Rey is overcome, she starts chanting, gloved and ungloved hand raised. She stands, shirtless as the other three, yelling, she steps backwards out of the hot tub, moonwalking her way towards the mound of snow.

Rey doesn’t notice until it’s too late when the others stop chanting. When headlights illuminate her naked form. When tires crunch against the gravel and a car motor whirrs as it slows and then comes to a stop. When four pairs of staring eyes lock onto her. Sinking realisation drops in her belly. Her hands, one gloved, one ungloved, fly to cover herself, heat blooming across her snow chilled skin. 

In the moment she does the only thing she can — glance to Poe for guidance. But his blank, slack—jawed face holds little comfort. Instinct tells her to run. Something in her gut tells her to stay. 

Incredibly, in the front passenger’s seat, she sees Ben chuckle. In that moment, she darts across the tub, seizing her towel and covering herself. Like she’s broken some sheet of ice, everyone around her cascades into chaos. Finn and Rose jump out of the hot tub, grabbing their clothes and running, still naked, into the trees. Everyone clears out of the house, streaming down the stairs and into the dark path back to town. 

Minutes later, Rey and Poe are one their hands and knees, collecting rubbish and various debis in the aftermath of the party. Only the very last of the stragglers remain, and, of course, Ben, Phasma, Hux, and, to their eternal annoyance, Snoke. 

“There’s a broken coffee table in the hall, the whole speaker system is kaput, and there’s vomit on the yucca plant,” he says in a pleased wheeze. 

Ben sighs loudly behind Rey. “Excellent work, guys. Just as long as nobody painted a comedy moustache on the…”

He trails off as everyone leaps to their feet, storming to the awful portrait that hangs in the hallway, the one Rey made faces at on her first day, the one that’s worth more than she makes in a year. 

Collapsing on the doorframe, they all sigh in relief as it remains unscathed. 

“Okay, look, just clean up the mess,” Ben says, crossing his arms. “I’ll replace the kit, and you can pay me back later. We’ll take it out of your tips.”

“But what’s happened…” Snoke trails off.

“They don’t need to know,” Ben says decisively, waving away the remnants of a previous conversation.

“What I don’t understand is,” Phasma says, “why would they do this if they knew we were coming.”

“You told them, right?” Hux asks Snoke.

Snoke says something in German to Ben that Rey doesn’t understand. “I said, Mr. Ben came early because of the good snow.”

“No, no, no,” Rey is already saying. “No, he didn’t!”

“You didn’t,” Poe says at the same time.

“I did.”

“Awesome sauna, bro,” some fringed, shirtless dude says, clapping Ben on the shoulder. He wanders out of the house, leaving a stunned Ben in his wake.

“Uh. Okay. You do not get to call me needle—cock ever again,” he says, wagging a finger at Poe. “And you,” he rounds on Rey, “the next time you have a birthday party, do it at your own house.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, alcohol still making her brave. “A few rounds of twister, a couple games of gin rummy and we’re away.”

“Sounds great.” His eyes bore into hers.

“Yeah, pop ‘round.” He really is a lot taller than her. 

“Maybe I will.” That’s a nice smile.

“Cool.” What was she saying again?

They hold eye contact a second too long. Long enough for it to get awkward in the room, Poe chewing his lip and staring down his nose. Ben suddenly realises that Phasma and Hux are watching him very closely, almost jumping.

“Uh, breakfast at eight. Okay?” he says, rubbing his ear nervously. Clearing his throat, he exits the room before Poe or Rey can answer, followed by Hux and Phasma, leaving them alone with the smirking Snoke.

“Better luck next time,  _ scheisskopf, _ ” Poe says, raising his eyebrows in challenge. Snoke doesn’t respond, just continues smirking as he leaves, hands in his pockets.

“Rey,” Poe says once he’s gone.

“Poe?”

“Looks like you’re really gonna have to win that competition now.”

Rey nods, lips pursing as she wills her voice not to betray her. “Yep.”

  
  


The next day finally dawns, bright and glittering, with blue skies and a fresh blanket of snow. The lifts are running up and down the mountain again, and skiers are emerging from their cabins into the blinding sunlight.

“Come on, babes,” Poe says, dropping effervescent tablets into two glasses of water. He hands one to Rey, who’s still in bed. “Best day of the season.” 

They raise their glasses in unison, chugging them back in one. Rey’s brain feels like it might slip out of her nose if she sneezes too hard, her mouth tastes like a mouldy apricot, and she’s pretty sure one of her nipples is mildly frostbitten, but she hauls herself out of bed nonetheless. 

Gloved up, they’re soon scrubbing away — Poe on the stove, Rey at the sink, when Ben appears. 

“See you later,” he says, as Hux and Phasma march past behind him. “Try not to organise any mass raves while we’re out.”

Grimacing, they keep cleaning. The morning passes in a blur of antibacterial spray, toilet brushes, and mopping, but between the two of them, they’re soon kitted up and trotting out the door.

“Hey Dad,” Rey answers her buzzing phone, struggling to zip her coat one handed. “Look, I’ll talk to you later, I’ve really gotta go. Love you. Bye!”

They’re down at the main lift before the bulk of the skiers make it up the mountain. But, the line still stretches around the corner of the building, and Rey turns, only slightly dejected, to go to the back. It’s their own fault they’re a bit late anyway.

Poe grabs her arm before she can get far, jerking his head to the front of the queue. “Come on.”

She only feels a small niggle of embarrassment creep up her neck at the row of watching eyes as she jogs to keep up with Poe. They file into the unused turnstile, the girl checking passes, a pretty brunette with long braided pigtails, flashing a smile at Poe. He sidles through, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss on her cheek, making her blush and giggle, twirling a plait between two fingers. Rey rolls her eyes, following him.

“Oh, hi!” Poe says, turning to the other side just as Phasma emerges from the long line. Ben and Hux follow shortly behind, skis in hand. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jesus, Poe,” Ben says as they all climb into the same gondola. “Have you slept with half the bloody resort?”

“Only the useful half.” Rey files in beside them, sitting across from Ben.

“I can be useful,” Hux mutters, last to board. Rey isn’t touching that one with the tip of her LightSaber. 

“Is it true all the chalet workers have sex in gondolas?” he asks once the door closes, smoothing his hair and looking at Poe through the corner of his eye. Rey wonders if he dyes it or if it’s naturally that flaming red.

“Oh yeah,” Poe nods. “Non—stop. We are  _ crazy  _ for it.”

“Come on, can’t people see in?” Phasma seems scandalised. 

“The windows steam up if you do it right.” Poe waggles an arched eyebrow. “On this one you only have 90 seconds.”

“Ninety seconds is Hux’s record.” A glove collides with Ben’s face at the prod.

“Okay, sister present,” Phasma says, raising her hands and putting a stop to the conversation. Rey can’t help smirking as she stares out the window, watching the snowy landscape glide by below them.

“Check out the fresh tracks.” Ben points out the window at a meandering groove on one of the steepest peaks. It’s not one the lifts go to.

“Wow,” Rey sighs.

“It’s the Yeti.” 

“The who?”

A smile tugs at Ben’s mouth. “Not really a Yeti. Just some local mystery guy.” He leans in like he’s telling her a closely guarded secret, and so does she, just to play along. In the corner of her eye, Phasma purses her lips. “He’s always first to put fresh tracks down the powder.”

“And you know he’s a guy because…”

“Local mystery person,” Ben corrects, grinning. “He, she, they climb through the night, ski down at dawn. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Amazing slash weird.” Their eyes meet and Rey can feel heat pooling at the base of her spine at his warm gaze. For a moment, she forgets they’re surrounded by people, drawn in by his smile, crooked in just the right way, by the constellation of beauty marks across his skin — she wonders if the rest of him is similarly covered, if she could trace them, map them — 

“I’d love to have sex in a gondola,” Hux shatters the mood. Huffing breath rushes out Rey’s lungs as she sighs away the fantasy. It’s for the better, anyway. The doors open and a blast of mountain air washes it further into oblivion. “Do you want to ski with us today? Snoke told me about this crazy empty run —”

“I’m sure they have other things they want to do,” Phasma says, helmet clip clacking.

“Yeah, I’m meeting someone at the snow park,” Rey says, pulling her gloves on.

“Oh, I get it.” Standing, Ben fills half the gondola. “Worried you can’t keep up, huh?”

“Well, we’ll see about that won’t we?”

Snow kicks up with every turn Rey carves over the undisturbed course. Hux was right — it’s deserted apart from them, beautiful and pristine. Rey sails down ahead of the rest, whooping as she banks again, speeding up more.

But Ben isn’t having it, flying down the slope, arms flying back, bent low. Rey tries not to notice the bulge of his arse as he passes her, but fails. It really is quite spectacular. Would be a crime to miss it.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Ben leaps, lifting only a few inches from the ground, and spins. Grinning, he skis backwards beside her. 

“Not fair!” she hollers. “Snowboards don’t work that way!”

“Ha ha!” he laughs in victory. “I know!” He flips back around. “Hey! Over here!” 

He heads down a side slope, Rey coming to a stop just at the turning, watching him. There’s a bank of snow that’s slipped down the side of the mountain, forming a natural ramp, which Ben flies up, pushing off at the last second and spinning, with more grace than a man his size should have, twice, before landing, a triumphant yell echoing from his chest.

He comes to a stop a few meters downhill, arms raised. “Come on,” he motions at her. “Your turn to jump.”

Breath fogging in the cool air, Rey shifts, starting down the run up. She feels it, the snow under her board, the wind on her face, the flexing balance of her muscles. She’s on the ramp, gaining speed, adrenaline pumping, when suddenly — 

Crash. Echoed honking, tires screeching. Her vision cuts out, and instead of the jump she’s hurtling towards a bridge barrier, glass shattering around her. Light flashes to her side, making her look up, twisting on instinct, and in that moment, she loses her balance.

Her feet go out from under her, chest hitting the cold ground, knocking her jaw together so hard she’s scared a tooth is broken. Hands come out to slow the fall, and she skids forward, coming to a stop splayed on the snow.

“Rey! Are you okay?” Ben’s frantic voice shouts up the hill. She looks up, panting, and nods weakly. Physically, she’s fine.

Something uphill distracts Ben. “Phas — Phas, wait! No, Phas, please don’t, Phas!” 

Rey looks up just in time to see Phasma, clad completely in shining silver, sail through the air, legs and arms spread wide. Her mouth opens as she realises she’s lost the jump, letting out a high pitched scream that’s cut short by a sickening thud.

  
  


“Ahhh!” she screams again as the paramedics heft up the stretcher.

“Ahh,” Hux mimics his sister, face scrunching in sympathy. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course it fucking hurts, you idiot!”

“Okay,” Poe says in his most calming voice, turning to address the medic. “Give her some more of that strong stuff, yeah?”

Phasma screams again as the stretch jostles slightly.

“I feel bad,” Rey says, hugging her board.

“So you should, it’s all your fault,” Ben’s voice is icy. Mouth open, she looks up at him, a wilting feeling in her chest. His face splits into a smile. “I’m joking. It’s really not.”

Rey snaps her mouth shut, snorting her annoyance. Now is  _ so  _ not the time for sarcasm,  _ Ben _ . 

“I’ll get her back to London this afternoon. We know a good surgeon.” Rey nods, eyes closing. They know a good surgeon. Of course they know a good surgeon. “I’ll be back out in a couple of weeks with some clients. So I’ll see you then, then.”

The corner of her mouth lifts. “Then, then.”

Ben’s answering grin is cut short by more screaming from the ambulance. Rey watches him crunch through the snow, hand coming to the door as he pauses, eyes darting back to her one last time, before he hops in beside Phasma. It must be the newly falling snow that has Rey shivering as they drive off. Must be.


	4. Chapter 4

“Three! Two! One!” 

Crashing sounds over the cheers echoing out of Finn’s half open door. Rey swings it further open, revealing three beanie clad, clapping and laughing boys, none of whom are Finn, sitting on the sofa. Finn himself is upside down, strapped into his board, at the bottom of the narrow cabin stairs.

“Peanut!” he coughs.

“Finn,” she squats next to him, “I need help.”

“Ouf, me too.” Smiling, Rey nods.

Once they’ve disentangled Finn from the staircase and his friends have said their goodbyes, they head to the snow park for what Finn encouragingly calls a ‘crash course in crashing.’

“Taking big jumps, lesson one,” he says, arms folded across his chest, doing his best impression of a serious snowboarding teacher. “It’s complex, so watch close.”

A small jump and he’s off, winding down the slope towards the big ramp, accelerating until he reaches the peak.

“Yeah—ha—ha!” he lets loose, flipping through the air, board overhead. He comes full circle, righting himself just in time to collide with the massive green and black airbag waiting below the jump. It ripples with the impact, and Rey can’t stop a giggle escaping.

“Jump into my arms, Peanut!” his muffled shout comes.

Swinging her arms, Rey inches forward, urging herself to do it, just  _ do  _ it. But her muscles cease with fear, and she stalls. 

“Peanut? You there?”

Huffing and grunting she tries again, bouncing her now stiff legs, but doesn’t make it more than a foot before she sinks to the ground. 

“Oh!” Frustration rushes out her mouth, and she slumps forward over her legs, staring at the jump that shouldn’t be this difficult. It shouldn’t scare her this much. But it does. Sighing, she watches Finn hike back up the short hill, board in hand. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting next to her. Rey fiddles with her glove in response. “Peanut, jumping is easy. Landing is the hard part.” He flips the clips on her boots. “Come on.”

Taking her hand, she lets him lead her to the edge of the jump. Looking down, it seems higher than before.

“You ready?” 

Rey takes a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“On three,” Finn’s hand tightens around hers. “Three!”

Finn leaps and before she can think Rey leaps with him. Whooping through the air, her stomach jolts up to her jawline, but there’s no flashing lights or screeching tires, so when Rey lands, half on the airbag, half on the Finn, she’s grinning from ear to ear. They tumble, laughing as they roll over each other and off the airbag.

“Okay, now with the board!”

Clipped in, Rey feels her blood pumping again, heart rate ticking up with adrenaline. But Finn is beside her, smiling encouragingly, so she doesn’t give herself enough time to overthink. 

“Three!” she shouts, mostly to herself, but she hears Finn erupt with laughter as she speeds down the hill. There’s no time for doubt, no time to stop, she doesn’t want to, isn’t going to, and then she’s catching air, weightlessness filling her limbs as she hears Finn shouting “Yes!” behind her. She collides with the bag, grin growing again. 

Rey spends the rest of the day flying off the jump in various poses. Just straight forwards at first, then attempting to flip over, or twist around. She doesn’t land any at first, Finn giggling and covering his eyes at her undignified tumbles and shrieks.

But as the afternoon wears on, she gets more confident. First, she lands a 180 degree twist. Then a 360. Finn raises a beer at her as she manages to flip all the way over, board meeting the airbag at the right moment. Rey even lands one, only one, frontside 540, looking up just in time to see Finn shaking his board in the air yelling.

“There you go! Yes!” He throws it down with an excited shout.

Rey reckons she’s earned a beer after that, and they head to the slopeside bar, where Finn gets the first round.

“My flying angel!” he says chinking his glass against hers.

“Are you really gonna go for it?” Poe asks. He and Rose had been watching her last few jumps with Finn, and now he leans generously into his side, arm draped around Finn’s shoulder despite being almost exactly the same height.

“Yeah!” Finn answers for her. “I’m telling you, this girl is podgy.”

“She — she’s what?” Rose’s nose wrinkles in confusion.

“Podgy. She’s a real podgy.” 

“I’m not podgy!” 

Poe’s phone starts ringing and he has to dig in his pocket, backing off Finn. “Oh, prodigy. He means prodigy,” he says, glancing at the caller ID. 

Answering, he steps away, but not far enough to be out of earshot before he says, “Hey, Hux, you sexy beast! How are you?”

Finn’s face falls. “Hux?” He looks at Rey who can only shrug sympathetically and pat him on the knee.

“Hey, Rey! What’s up?” a familiar voice calls. Looking over her shoulder, Rey spots Maz, waving from the edge of the slope.

“Oh hey! Hey, Maz, um…” She looks down at her half drunk beer, cringing at the flashes of memory from that drunken night at The Cantina. “Just, uh, taking a break.”

“Well, like they say, if it were easy…” Maz shrugs. Rey smiles in acknowledgement and Maz turns to the friends behind her. “You guys ready? Let’s go.” In a crunch of snow they head off.

Rey downs the rest of her beer, eager to follow suit. She slaps Finn slightly on the thigh. “Right, come on, buster.”

“It’s been a long day, Peanut,” he says as he glides leasurily towards the snow park. But something like the dipping sun isn’t going to stop Rey practicing her tricks. Like Maz said — if it was easy, anyone would do it. If she wants to win the prize money, she’s going to work bloody hard for it. Like she worked bloody hard for everything. 

She easily passes the first box, the middle of her board skimming smoothly along it, and then the two small mounds just downhill, only briefly leaving the ground before she lands lightly. At the second box, she pulls a 180, already a familiar move, and then it’s just the big jump — this time with no cushion at the bottom. This time it’s a  _ real _ jump. 

She’s going to do it, she  _ can  _ do it. How many times did she land on the airbag today? How many times did her stomach leap as she left the earth? This is no different. 

“Watch and learn, Finn!” she shouts, directing her board at the ramp.

“Peanut, wait! It’s too soon!” she hears him a little ways behind her. But he’s not fast enough to catch her, and he doesn’t know what she’s capable of.

White ground flies past below her, grooved tracks run up the ramp from a day of use, and Rey follows them, gaining speed as she approaches. Her heart leaps in her throat, mouth running dry as the land shifts from downhill to uphill, stomach dropping out and then — 

Screeching tires, flashing white light, her mums face smiling for a second and then glass shattering around her. The bridge barrier collapsing around them. A yell rips through Rey’s chest as she becomes airborne, arms flailing for balance that she can’t find as asphalt rushes towards her. 

The asphalt turns to snow and Rey can’t control the fall. Pain rockets up her arm as her hand is the first to collide, followed by the board, her shoulders and hips. Wind rushes out of her, as she thuds to the ground, dull knocking echoing through her helmet. Face down, she finally comes to a stop.

Chopping echoes through the kitchen as Rey brings the knife down again and again, slicing carrot after carrot apart. She scrapes the finished line into the mounting pile before her, grabbing another from the washed stack.

“I think that’s enough carrots,” Poe says, leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed. Rey hesitates with her next chop, but slices the end off the carrot all the same. Sighing, Poe pushes off the door frame coming to stand in front of her. “Why give up now after you’ve worked so hard?”

“Because I don’t feel like it, okay?” Rey turns to wash the carrot off her hands.

“It’s just a sprain.”

“This time.” She whips the hand towel off its rail. “Next time, I break my neck, and then what? People die doing this stuff, you know.”

“I thought you needed the money.”

“I do need it.” Guilt naws at her insides as she speaks. “And maybe if I hadn’t spent it on renting ski kit and replacing stupid speakers, which we haven’t actually paid for yet — ”

“ _ Dios, _ Rey, we’re meant to be having fun.” 

Rey shakes her head, eyes closed, as she strides out the kitchen, down the hall, and out the chalet, only pausing long enough to grab her jacket. What does Poe know? He doesn’t get it,  _ he  _ doesn’t have to deal with a mortgage that needs paying, and bills and loans, and a dad that’s all but given up.  _ He  _ doesn’t have to deal with a mum that’s — that’s — 

Rey can’t even think the word. 

Before she realises it she’s sitting at The Cantina, letting the flavour—of—the—week rock music wash over her, fingers drumming limply on the sticky bartop. Her phone buzzes, lighting up with her Dad’s picture, but the tongue out face he’s pulling doesn’t make her smile like usual. Instead it just deepens the sinkhole in her stomach. 

Somewhere in London, in a kitchen covered in dirty dishes and half full glasses, Obi-wan listens to his daughter’s voicemail. The online shop has just arrived, so he sighs, standing to help the woman, Satine, bring it in. 

His face must look more sour than usual, because instead of her usual cheery ‘Hello there,’ she gives him a toothy smile.

“Cheer up, babe. It might never happen.”

Obi-wan sighs again. “It has. It continues to.”

Satine places two carrier bags on the counter beside him. “Do you know what you need to do?” Her hand disappears into the plastic, returning with a bright yellow bottle with a red cap. She thumps it on the surface beside him.

“Drink bleach? Good idea.”

“Two capfuls, a bucket, hot water.” Her hands come to her hips. Shapely hips, not that Obi-wan was noticing. “You know what they say, don’t you? Tidy kitchen, tidy mind.”

He looks around at the surrounding chaos. He exhales deeply. “I just feel like I’m losing her.”

“People change. Change is good.” Satine points at a picture on the fridge of a family holiday spent laughing and joking by a lake. “Where’s her mum, then?”

Obi-wan busies himself with unpacking another bag. “Sutton Row Cemetery. Change isn’t always good.” 

“Oh.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment, until Obi-wan decides he’s wallowed for too long. “Two capfuls, you said?”

  
  


“Yellow snow!” Finn’s perpetually happy voice echoes through the chalet. His face follows shortly, poking around the corner to where Rey sits eating her depression cereal. She smiles around a mouthful, pulling him into a one—armed hug. “How’s your arm?”

She nods, swallowing. “Hmm! It’s alright. It’s getting there.”

“The doctor said it’ll be fine in a few days,” Poe calls from the bedroom.

“Oh,” Finn snaps his fingers twice, eyebrows drawing together. “Wow! He can talk to me now, right? Now that General Ginger isn’t calling him 50 times a day.”

Rey shrugs, keeping it to herself that Poe can almost definitely hear every word Finn said.

“I need my training buddy back,” he continues, nudging her shoulder. “They started building the course for the pro. Wanna take a sneaky—peeky?” 

“No, I can’t.” Rey’s gaze returns to her cereal. “We’ve got corporate guests. Big weekend.”

Finn’s face falls. “One hour? You’ve got to do this.” His dark eyes meet hers. “Peanut, you… you on a board, it’s where you’re meant to be. You’ve got so much talent it’s unfair to the rest of us.” 

The sinkhole in her stomach widens as Rey shakes her head. “Sorry, Finn. But I can’t.”

His eyes drop to his hands as he shrugs. Getting up to leave, he says, “Alright, Peanut.”

“Bye!” Poe calls as the front door closes behind him.

  
  


The next day Poe and Rey are up bright and early, uniforms on, waiting outside to greet the sleek black cars. 

“Thank you, Rachel,” Han says as Rey pulls two bags from the trunk.

“Dan, her name’s Rey,” Ben corrects him, coming to help, shoulder brushing hers as he leans in beside her. 

“Rey is short for Rachel, right?” Rey shakes her head slightly, smiling. “Oh, well — my mistake.”

“Where’s the one from last year, Solo?” a rotund slug of a man says, waddling towards the chalet. “Really big tits, big arse?”

“Lando Calrissian? He went bust, didn’t you hear?” 

Raucous laughter echoes through the trees. “You prick! The chalet girl.”

“Paige broke her leg.”

“What, skiing?”

“Apres—skiing.” 

Ben catches Rey’s eye, rolling his eyes with an exasperated smile, which she returns, but before she can say anything a wheezy voice from behind her says, “You’re too lean for my taste.” 

Startled, she spins, finding a tall, weedy man with a blotchy yellow complexion standing far too close to her. 

“We’re gonna have to fatten you up, love,” he says, loud enough for the slug—man to laugh again. 

“Yeah, a bit more cushion for the pushin’,” an impossibly pallid, wrinkled man gauffs. They high five as they climb the steps to the chalet, Snoke following them, wheezy laugh joining the mocking chorus. 

“They tip well,” Poe mutters to Rey, gripping bags of his own.

“They’d better.”

Rey manages to avoid them for the next hour or so while the guests get settled in. She’s clearing away the remnants of breakfast while Ben and Han are discussing the coming weekend.

“We need Sheev to come in first. 40, maybe 50 mil,” Ben is saying, glancing up as she takes the plate in front of him. “The others should follow his lead.”

Han waves away the concern in his voice. “You worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough.”

“Solo, shift your arse!” the wheezy man shouts from his room.

“Right,” Han says standing. “Let’s get going — Poe, you’re coming with us, yes, to dish up lunch?”

Poe spins where he’s leaving with a pile of plates. “Oh, um…” he catches Rey’s eye. “Actually, I’ve come down with something, it’s like — ” Poe gives the least convincing fake cough Rey’s ever heard, “A little tickle.” He coughs again.

“Oh,” Han’s eyebrows rise. “Well, you’d better come, then, Kid…”

“Dad, for God’s sake, it’s Rey.”

“Rey, yes, I knew that.”

Rey’s mouth opens as she tries to think of an excuse not to. “Oh um, I should actually — Ow.” Poe treads on her foot, eyebrows drawing together as his eyes dart from Han to her and back.  _ Shit. _ “Uh, yeah, I’ll, um, get changed and grab my lift pass.” The corner of his mouth lifts up as his foot retreats.

“Oh, you don’t need a lift pass,” Han says, brushing crumbs off his thighs. 

“How can you not need a lift pass?”

  
  
  


Low humming fills the moving air as the doors of the six person helicopter clank open. It’s massive, maybe 60 feet long, painted white and grey with red letters spelling  _ Falcon _ along one side of the tail.

“Ahh,” Rey says in realisation as she walks up, LightSaber under her arm.

“Have you ever been on one of these things?” Han asks, standing beside her to take in the gleaming machine.

“Yeah, we got one at home.” She falls into step with him. “This one’s pretty small, actually.”

She earns a smile at that. “Do we pay extra for irony?”

“No, the irony’s free. It’s the sarcasm you’re paying for. Ironically.” Behind her she catches Ben’s rumbling laugh joining his father’s.

Once all the skis, lunch and Rey’s board are loaded up, the belts checked and double checked and the doors securely closed, the humming grows to an almost deafening rumble. Rocking slightly, the Falcon lifts, pushing away from the ground under Han’s steady guidance. Smiling, Rey pushes her nose against the window, watching the cars shrink below them.

“Oh! Oh, wow,” she gasps as they soar over snow capped mountains, black rock barely breaking through at the steepest ridges.

“How long have you been on this thing?” the old one asks over his headset, thumb jerking behind them to where Rey’s LightSaber is stowed.

“About 8 weeks,” she answers, still grinning.

“Jesus, Solo.”

“You can fly back on the bird if you’re not sure,” Han’s voice comes over the headset. Beside him the co—pilot, a huge hairy man who insisted he was far too smart for skiing or snowboarding or other ‘cold mountain nonsense’, nods in agreement.

“She’s fine, trust me.” Ben’s gaze doesn’t move from the view below. Rey’s sight returns to the mountains too, only slightly wider and warmer than before.

“I don’t want her holding us up,” Wheezy grumbles.

Ben and Rey lead the pack all morning. Whooping and hollering, she carves through the pristine snow, stomach leaping with every turn, joy flooding through her veins whenever she catches a glimpse of Ben’s glittering grin. They race each other, an unspoken competition, each vying for the win. Rey’s pretty sure she’s got him as she showers him with snow at one of her turns, but he gets her back with a sharp turn, speeding past and shouting ‘Hurry up!’ 

They finally stop for lunch at a ridge overlooking the pine coated valley, sparkling river flowing far below them. Rey bustles around, laying out the various supplies and filling everyone’s glasses.

“The global financial meltdown was just something that happened to other people,” Slug—man smacks his lips after a deep sip of champagne, “wasn’t it, Solo?”

“Ha! I warned you about those sub—primes,” Han retorts, sitting against his skis. “Greed’s only good when it comes to lunch.”

“I do like lunch,” Sluggy smacks again. “Speaking of which, what is this?” He points a sausage finger at one of the plates.

“Special Austrian food,” Snoke answers. “Strudel, noodle, and  _ knoödel _ .”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a canoodle with this one,” Wheezy says as Rey refills his glass. Her nose wrinkles in disgust before she can stop it. “What do you reckon, Sheev? I’m guessing 32C.”

“Hmm, hard to tell,” Sheev says peering over the rim of his mirrored sunglasses, “Jumper might be bulking her up a bit. Put me down for 30B.”

“Miles off,” Slug—man says through a mouthful. “I’m thinking 30D, the holy grail of bra sizes.” They all gauf with laughter. Flush is burning in Rey’s cheeks as she steps up to Snoke, filling his glass.

“Controversial.”

“Go on, Rey,” Wheezy says. “Put us out of our misery.”

“No, Rey.” The anger in Ben’s voice is palpable. “Don’t answer that.”

“I’m sorry,” Sheev says, not sounding sorry at all. “But I was under the impression that we were enjoying ourselves.”

“Exactly,” Jabba agrees, crumbs rolling off his double chin as he nods enthusiastically.

Rey can see the black leather of Ben’s gloves stretching across his knuckles as fists clench by his side. But somehow he manages to keep his voice level. “Unlike most of the women you know, Jabba, Rey keeps her clothes  _ on _ for a living.”

“It’s alright,” Rey steps in. She doesn’t need Ben defending her. “You know what they say. The bigger the chat, the smaller the chap.” 

Han laughs at that, Sheev scoffing but otherwise lapsing into silence. A small smile tugs at her mouth as she fills Ben’s glass, his eyes meeting hers and she knows if he could he’d be grinning back at her.

Luckily, the weekend finishes without too much more misogyny. Rey makes Poe live up to his role as front of house for dinner and breakfast, although from what she hears Sheev, Jabba, and Grievous are just as happy to objectify him. Finally, Sunday afternoon rolls around and all the bags are loaded into the cars, Rey and Poe waving them off.

“Fantastic weekend, Solo,” she hears Grievous’ distinctive wheeze. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but some fresh powder and a couple of tasty chalet tarts will get you 40 mil.”

“Dad, wait,” Ben says, unbuckling himself.

“Forgotten your hair care products, again?”

“Actually, I was, uh, thinking about staying out a couple more days.” 

“Hey, do your thing. Back for the weekend, obviously?” Ben nods.

Rey sits down at the dining table to count her tip money while Poe gets ready to meet Rose on the slopes, trying to roll off the tension that settled in her shoulders over the weekend. 

“There’s like, 400 euros here. Should think so too, bloody perverts. And Ben still didn’t ask us to pay him back for the — ”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She jumps, gasping as she twists round to him standing there, bag over his shoulder, bicep bulging. He clears his throat, hand out, which Rey slaps her tip money into.

Poe hops into the room, giggling at his phone, stopping short when he spots Ben. “Oh, and you too.” Rolling his eyes, Poe hands over the cash.

Ben straightens, folding the money over, eyes fixed on Rey. “Okay, so look, you can earn yours back, ‘cause I want to hire you. Fifty euros an hour.” She cocks an eyebrow. His mouth drops open. “Not like that.”

“Then like what?”

  
  


“Do you need a hand? The meter’s running.” Ben smiles as he pulls a black glove off, middle finger grasped in his mouth, and attempts to get his boods cliped into the snowboard once again. 

“No,” he says, fingers fumbling as he struggles to get his ankle at the right angle.

“That’s three euros right there.” Rey paces around him, watching. “Well, it’s your money. Actually, it’s mine now. Again.”

“Alright, alright,” he huffs, successful at last. “Show me what’s so great about boarding. Let’s get gnarled.”

“Gnarly.” She gives him a hand to his feet.

“Whatever.” Shifting his weight, the board inches forward and Rey leads him down the hill, like Finn did for her that first day. “Sick, fat, ill.”

“You sound like a doctor.” She picks up the pace a little, each slide covering slightly more ground.

“Holy shit, I’m a natural.” Ben grins, looking down.

“Shut up, Snoogles.”

“Ha — Whoa!” Ben loses his balance, top heavy frame toppling forwards, pulling Rey down onto the slippery ground. His arm manages to catch her around the waist, but he can only slow the fall, ending up partially on top of her. A laugh punches out of Rey and Ben joins in, lying belly down on the ground.

“Let’s move back into position,” he says, kicking his feet up in the air and rolling onto his bum.

“Okay, now concentrate this time. Idiot.” She pulls him up again.

“I think you mean: ‘Concentrate, please, valued paying customer.’”

They both chuckle as she helps him inch further down the slope. They make it a few more metres before he shifts his weight a little too much, sliding farther than she expects.

“Oh, wait,” Ben grunts.

“Oh — Ow! Ow!,” Rey shouts as the board clips under her toes, scooping her up and forwards as Ben topples back. She lands with a thud on his chest, both wheezing with laughter.

“Okay, that was an accident.”

“No, Ben,” Rey teases, pushing off him back to her feet. “I’m not gonna be your little bit of fun.” His head hits the snow as he sighs out a plume of white breath.

He’s back on his feet soon, this time Rey sending him down the slope alone with a “Go on, then,” and a laugh. 

He does alright, making it a good little way, butt stuck out, arms flailing slightly, shouting, “Yes, yes, yes!” and then “Oh, no,” as he over balances, tumbling onto his already snow covered arse.

Giggling, Rey walks over. He looks up at her with a squinting smile. “Come on, loser. Let me show you how it’s done,” she says with a jerk of her head.

She parks him with Finn while she runs the quarter—pipe, only showing off  _ slightly _ . She hears Finn cheer an enthusiastic “Yes!” as she manages an indie grab at the picnic table, just catching his fist pump. Her heart swells a little bit.

Once she’s finished her run she bounds back up to them, Ben smiling and Finn already strapped in. He thumps her on the helmet by way of greeting, before shooting off, leaving them alone. 

“Wanna head up the mountain?” she asks Ben, only puffing slightly from her uphill trot.

“Sure,” he nods. “But I’m never going to make it down on this thing. Let me get my skis.”

He shows her another unused run, one with an amazing view of the surrounding mountains halfway down, where they stop for a water and snack break. Ben splays out on his side, complaining about a bruise on his left buttcheek, while Rey goes about the serious business of forming the perfect snowball.

“So you have a pretty rough life, huh?” she asks, watching a bird circle and dive through the clear blue sky.

“Hideous, isn’t it?” There’s a lilt of something Rey can’t quite place in Ben’s voice.

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stand it.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

A sarcastic smile flits over Rey’s face. “I have heard having loads of money can be a real drag.”

“You’d think I could do anything I wanted.” He shakes his head, eyes following the horizon. “But my dad’s had a place saved for me on the board since I was in nappies, and my mum won’t be satisfied until I’ve married Phasma and we have 12 children, all with perfect hair.” He’s joking but there’s a dark note behind the words. “No, they’ve got it all planned out for me, and I’m just — I can’t — I can’t make a single decision about my own fucking life.” He huffs, throwing a handful of snow down the hill. Rey can’t help chucking, Ben looking up at her, cheeks flushed. “I’m glad my problems are amusing you.”

“No, nice try, but not quite.” She nudges his shoulder with the toe of her boot. “Angst, the rich kid’s alternative to real problems.”

“Sarcasm, the chalet girl’s alternative to real humour.” He sighs, gaze on his hands. “Look, I know I’m lucky but — ”

“But I’m stuck in this caged existence of vintage champagne and luxury ski chalets, when all I really want to do is be a pop star.”

His eyes meet hers, the beginning of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Rock star, actually.”

“Ah.” They share a smile for a moment, Rey chuckling as she spins the snowball in her hands. “Why don’t you just do it, then?”

Ben shrugs. “It’s not that simple.” Rey’s smile grows. “What?”

“No, it’s nothing,” she says, but he tugs at her ankle to make her continue. 

“What? Go on, tell me.” 

“It’s silly.” He tugs again and she exhales in defeat. “It’s just, my mum always used to say: ‘You’ve got brains in your head, feet in your shoes, you can steer yourself any direction you choose.’”

“Wise lady, your mum.”

Rey nods, the edge of grief creeping in on her. “Yeah,” she sighs. “Come on, we should get going.”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees, pulling his gloves on.

  
  


“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Poe calls as Rey trudges in the chalet door, limbs heavy after a full day of snowboarding but heart feeling lighter than it has in a while. 

She does a double take, backtracking to the living room door where Poe is laying on the sofa, motorcycle magazine open across his chest. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he says sitting up. “The season ends, he goes back to his world, you go back to yours.”

“My world,” Rey scoffs. “Where exactly is that? Pluto?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Anger flares in Rey’s belly. “Don’t judge me by your standards. You’d rather be with a rich idiot like Hux, over Finn, who you are clearly in love with, by the way.” 

Poe’s face cracks with hurt but Rey doesn’t care — it’s the truth, why shouldn’t she say it? Still, his words hit a nerve, and now she’s not really fancying hanging around the chalet anymore. Retracing her steps, she grabs her jacket. 

“I’m going for a beer,” there’s no invitation in her voice.

“Rey, there’s something you need to know,” he says as she retreats.

“I think I’m done on the friendly advice for now, thanks.” With a click of the door she’s gone.

Thankfully, The Cantina is still relatively empty when she gets there. She’s the only one sitting at the bar when Luke slides a foam topped pint to her. With a small smile that feels more like a grimace she slides over a note.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks with a somber nod. “A barman’s cheaper than a shrink.”

“A beer’s cheaper than a barman.”

“I don’t know,” he says with a half smile. “I’m pretty cheap.”

Rey sighs. “Beer doesn’t talk back either.” 

She slides the note further forward. With a piercing blue stare that Rey swears can read her mind, Luke slides the note back to her. She chews her cheek, nodding in thanks as Luke leaves her be. Exhaling shakily, she sips her beer.  _ Get a grip. _ She picks at the coaster and tries to push the feelings down. 

Her eyes are locked on a droplet of condensation meandering its way slowly down her glass when someone sits at the stool beside her, despite the rest of the bar being empty.

“Hey,” Ben says, “You okay?”

Rey doesn’t look up. “He told you where I was, then?” Rey sees him nod in the mirror behind the bar.

“I’m staying out of it.” Rey nods into her empty glass. “Look about us…”

“Night, Ben.” She’s up and out of her seat before he can finish. Before he can say the words.

“What,” his hand shoots out, encircling the small bones of her wrist. Rey’s eyes dart to it, to his warm grip, firm but tender all the same. She tries her hardest to not notice how good it feels. “What I really came to say was, I’ve booked the helicopter again.” 

Her eyes flick to his. They’re soft, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“I need someone to serve me lunch,” he says with a shrug. Despite herself, Rey smiles.

“You are so annoying.”


	5. Chapter 5

It’s another pale clear morning on the mountain when they get dropped off by the Falcon. The snow is deep and loose, splashing like waves around their entwined tracks as they careen downwards, winding together then apart then together again, trading glances and laughing, nothing between them and the mountain. Rey whoops as she carves a turn, hand grazing the powdery ground, flinging up a handful towards Ben, who barks in surprise, laughing louder than she’s heard before, echoing among the empty peaks. 

They make it back to the resort before mid afternoon, but, not willing to return to the chalet or anyone else’s company, they take the gondola up the mountain. They ride in silence, both peering at the skiers out the window, until Rey senses Ben watching her and, grinning, returns his gaze. He smiles at getting caught, but doesn’t drop his eyes, and Rey feels a grin growing too, although she can’t say why. In the corner of her eye, she sees Ben’s gloved hand flexing on his thigh.

Following their run, he convinces her to try sledding so they trade their kit for the small wooden sled, which Rey silently doubts is strong enough to hold Ben, and wander to one of the easier slopes. Rey demands the first ride, hopping on before Ben is ready, making him slip on the loose snow. She roars with laughter at his flailing form, clicking for him to hurry up. He stands, grinning with an evil look in his eye, and yanks the sled, sending her toppling backwards where she’s not holding on properly. 

Gasping, Rey pops up. “That was  _ mean _ .”

Ben shrugs, beaming unapologetically. “Sorry.” 

He nods for her to hop on again and she reaches for the sled, but he yanks it forward before she reaches it. She shoots him a look, but he keeps grinning, the picture of innocence. Rey manages to get her hand on the sled this time, holding it in place while she turns to sit, but just as she’s too far down to stand back up Ben yanks it again, with a barking laugh as she butt—plants on the snow.

“Hey!” Her look of daggers is somewhat undermined by the smile she can’t seem to stop.

She manages to wrestle the lead from him, insisting that he should show her how it’s done first. But just as he gives it up, Rey bolts off, up the hill, and Ben has to sprint, long legs catching her with ease. He grabs her around the waist and hauls her, squealing, up.

“That’s enough of that, miss,” he growls in her ear. Rey wriggles against him but he holds her tight against him, chest expanding with the effort. 

“Okay, okay,” she bargains, panting through her laughter. “We can both go. We can both go.”

They finally manage to get situated, Rey in the front, Ben in the back, legs stretched straight out on either side. He lifts his foot, and they’re off, Rey yelling with joy as the cold wind whips across her burning face. They fly down the mountain, unrestrained, as clouds fill the sky.

They don’t notice all the other skiers are gone until they’re alone, fog rolling in and obscuring them in its haze. Snow starts falling in flurries as they’re almost at the base, the land leveling off and the sled slowing to a stop. They get up, legs stiff and cold, and Rey takes the chance to shove Ben, toppling him over into a snowbank. Gasping, mouth open, he stares at her.

“Oh, now you’re gonna get it.” 

Shrieking, she flees, not making it far before he tackles her into another deep pile of snow. Rey grabs a handful of snow, flinging it into his face, and Ben howls as some slips down the back of his collar. Rey takes her chance, crawling through the snow, hands and socks completely soaked, as Ben starts firing snowballs at her. She returns fire, but he lunges forward, arms coming around her knees as he collapses over her. Not to be out done, she pins him back, but miscalculates, sending them rolling down the hill, snow sticking in their hair, as they pant for air in each other’s arms.

Behind them, they hear a snowmobile approaching, so they heave themselves up, Rey thrusting her thumb out for a lift — but it’s full, the driver just shrugging at them, before disappearing into the mounting blizzard. 

“With — with negotiating skills like that,” Ben heaves between heavy breaths, “it’s a wonder how you get anywhere. You didn’t even show him some leg.”

“Like you could do better.” She shoves him lightly on the chest as they stagger in the vague direction of the chalet, clinging to one another like they’re drunk.

Grinning, he shakes his head. “My legs are glorious to behold.”

“Hmm.” 

Her foot snakes forward, hooking Ben around the ankle, making him trip onto the slippery ground. But Rey’s boot gets caught on his, and before she can extract it, she’s falling too. Ben’s arm cages around her, and she twists before she hits the ground, ending up with him half on top of her, breath washing over her face. She smells it again, his cologne, sandalwood, spice, and  _ Ben _ . She breathes it in, pants it in, like it’s a drug and she’s intoxicated. 

Ben’s brown eyes meet hers, blinking snowflakes from his lashes, and her breath catches in her lungs as he leans in, surrendering to the winding force around them, nose grazing hers, chilled and gentle against the inferno of her skin, to press his lips on hers. 

It’s just a peck, just a press of soft skin to skin, and inhale of each other’s air, before Ben pulls back, blissful smile hanging on his lips. Rey’s eyes roll, and she pushes his face away, Ben rolling over with a grunting laugh, but she can’t stop grinning, engulfed in the feeling of him.

In a blur of snowflakes and heavy breaths and clinging to each other, they’re in the chalet, coats off, shirts going the same way, lips joined by a feverish kiss. His hands are in her hair, her hands are pushing his shirt up, finding the warm expanse of his chest, pulse thumping against her jaw. 

They break apart to pull tops over their heads, but Rey’s get stuck, Ben’s hands meeting her hips before she gets it off, placing hot kisses on her neck and along her collarbone.

“Hmm,” he rumbles as she finally frees herself. “30B. Knew it.”

“Shut up,” she says, pinching his side. His lips are hard with a grin when they meet hers, her arms winding around his neck as he picks her up, carrying her upstairs to his bedroom. Rey plants a series of kisses along his jawline and down his neck, sucking on the soft skin there, making him moan as he pushes open his door, hands roaming over her hips to grip the swell of her arse through her ski trousers. 

“No hickies,” he says, voice thick with arousal, and Rey nods, returning to kissing up the column of his neck, to nip at his earlobe. One of her hands roots firmly in his thick mane of hair, the silky locks curling around her fingers, while the other holds onto his broad, bare shoulders, the muscles rippling under her touch. She tugs a little at his hair, making him moan again, gripping her tighter as he swings the door closed. 

One of Ben’s thick arms braces around Rey’s hips, pinning them to his body, as the other supports them as he lays her on the bed. He lies on top of her, hot chest pressed against her, kissing her, open mouthed, tongue mingling with hers as his hands roam down her sides. His fingers dip below her waistband and Rey lets out a gasping breath, Ben taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tracing the line of her mouth. 

Suddenly, Ben breaks the kiss, kneeling back, fingers gripping the top of her trousers, soft warm eyes catching hers. “Yes?” 

“Fuck yes.” Ben’s smile beams as Rey helps him strip back her snow trousers and leggings, leaving her in just her underwear, flushed skin chilling where cool air replaces the press of Ben’s warm body. She reaches out to him, his hand slipping over hers as he returns to her, hand threading through her hair and red, hunger lips capturing hers. 

He settles against her, and for a moment she’s so lost in kissing him, in the gentle press and pull of his mouth against hers, that she doesn’t realise her centre is meeting new hardness, until Ben thrusts against her, through the thick material of his snow trousers, sending delicious pressure against her clit, sending her keening, back arching up to him.

Her hands trail down the flat hard planes of his stomach, fingers crooking under his waist band this time, in an attempt to push down his trousers but he’s too tall and she can’t reach to push them far enough to expose more than the soft trail of hair below his navel. Moaning in frustration, she shifts under him, trying for a better angle.

“You’re so needy, Chalet Girl,” Ben’s low rumble sends a shudder straight to her cunt. He gathers her hands in his, pinning them over her head with one hand, grip flexing around the small bones of her wrists. His head pulls back to fix her with a smouldering dark gaze, pupils blown wide that sends a flush to fill her cheeks and a clenching need to her achingly empty core. “We’ll get there soon enough.”

“Ben,” Rey pleads as he starts making his way down her body, kissing her agonisingly slowly along the slope of her neck, her collarbone, popping the clip of her bra, which she discards quickling, his hand coming around her ribs, thumb stroking just below her breast as he catches a nipple in his mouth tongue rolling over it. Rey keens, back arching as he sucks, hips rolling as she struggles for some friction where she needs it. 

Reading her mind, Ben’s thumbs hook around her undies, and he sits back, pulling them down her legs in one smooth movement. Rey wriggles slightly, flushed and feverish at the cool air rushing over her, feeling a little exposed, but he catches one of her ankles, planting a kiss on her calf, eyes locked on hers. 

“May I please,” he plants a kiss on the inside of her knee, “have the pleasure,” another further up her thigh, “of making you come?” A kiss just on her hip bone, and Rey can only nod in response, coherent words escaping her. Ben hums, stilling over her, hot breath ghosting over her centre. “I’m going to need a yes.” 

“Yes,” Rey moans. He licks a hot swipe over her slit and Rey gasps at the contact. 

“I didn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, Ben.” 

“Louder.” 

“Yes!” she yells as he sucks hard on her clit. Her hand finds his head, pushing hair out of his face and his eyes flick up to hers, hooded with arousal and his efforts redouble, greedy licking and sucking making Rey cry out. The tip of his finger touches her entrance, and for a moment she’s worried she’s not wet enough for him, but that dissolves as it slips quickly in, soon to be joined by another. Rey gasps at the stretch and Ben crooks them, pressing against the spongy muscle, tapping a rhythm in time with his licking, and she’s moaning, pressure mounting, if he only keeps up this tempo. She shudders as he switches to sucking, the tip of his tongue pressing against the head of her clit with each suck, fingers pulsing, and she’s trembling on the edge. 

“Ben, Ben, oh — Oh!” She rears up, knees shaking, as her orgasm rips through her, Ben sucking hard enough on her clit to have her shrieking, walls clenching hard around his fingers as he pants hot breaths over her, not letting up for a second. 

Shaking and spent, her muscles slowly release, aftershocks wracking through her body every few seconds, as she pants, heart thumping in her chest, and Ben releases her clit with one final sweep of his tongue. She feels him smiling against the inside of her thigh, heavy eyes half opening to catch his gaze as he slowly, lewdly pulls his fingers out, licking them clean one by one. It has her pulse stuttering in her chest once again, hot breath filling her lungs. 

Sitting up to meet him where he’s kneeling between her legs, Rey pulls him into a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. Her hands fumble as she pushes at his trousers, and Ben finally concedes, half stepping off the bed, breaking the kiss to shuck them off. 

Rey’s mouth lolls open as she watches him undress, pushing his trousers and boxers off, freeing his straining cock, already hard just from eating her out, which has her feeling warm and soft all over again, her eyes trained on the hot and angry head bouncing as he pulls the clothes off his ankles. 

Finally free, Ben leans over Rey again, lips dark and eyes hungry as he goes to lie on top of her again — but she has other ideas.

Hand pushing on his shoulder and foot crooking around the back of his knee, in one flashing movement, she flips them, pinning Ben’s chest under her hands, legs spread over his bare waist. Breath rushes out of his mouth in shock, wide eyes finding hers, but shock soon turns to a grin as he sits up, meeting her in a kiss, Rey’s hips rolling to grind against the hard length of his cock.

“Condom?” she breathes. Ben answers by reaching into the bedside drawer, ripping at the foil wrapper with his teeth. He discards it, Rey shifting her hips back to give him access. “Dots and ribs — Ben how considerate of you.”

“Well, I hear they’re for her pleasure.” He kisses her again, slowly this time, hands gripping the soft swell of her hips, hers finding his jaw as she rolls against him, eliciting a groan. “Please, Rey.”

“Hmmm.” A mischievous smirk flirts over her face, lips finding his ear, nipping the lobe lightly with her teeth. Ben’s grip tightens, arms encircling her, pulling her down over him. “I’m going to need a yes.”

“Ha,” Ben barks a laugh, lifting her slightly, hand lining himself up with her entrance, and then guiding her down over him in one fluid motion, almost knocking the wind out of her in the best way possible. “Yess,” the word hisses through his teeth.

“Uh—huh,” Rey nods, mouth open, stilling as her internal muscles flex around him, adjusting to the stretch. Ben catches her mouth in a kiss, hand grasping around the nape of her neck, pulling her onto him as her hips start to rock. His legs spread, letting Rey slide further down, taking him to the hilt, both of them gasping as she does, foreheads pressed together. 

“Rey,” her eyelids flutter open at her name. “I — uh — ” Ben swallows as she rolls against him again, hooded eyes drooping. “You — You’re amazing.” The corner of her mouth tugs up, hand slipping down his lat, thumb running over the firm bumps of his abs. 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” 

His thumb comes between them, rubbing circles on her clit as she bounces against him, setting the rhythm on course to throw her over the edge. Breath sticks in her chest, back arching, hair tossing back, and Ben catches one of her nipples in his mouth, fingers digging into her back, thumb rubbing, pressing, and she's tumbling, shaking, moaning, fingernails dragging down the smooth skin of his back, hard enough to leave red trails in their wake, Ben growling in her ear as her walls pulse around him. 

He flips her over, pinning her under his heavy body, cheek grazing against hers as he thrusts roughly into her, pace mounting, breath huffing against her skin. Her hand finds the nape of his neck, tugging on the hair there, earning a moan from his lips, the other pressing into the slope of his lower back, as his thrusts stutter, shoulders flexing and tensing, cock dragging against her clenching walls, thrusting once, twice, thrice more. 

Ben moans in her ear as he stills, cock twitching as his orgasm washes over him. Lifting up slightly he presses his forehead to hers, Rey’s fingers pushing hair back from his face, both breathing hard, chests pressed together, hearts thumping in unison, as they kiss tenderly, holding each other, before Ben rolls over to discard the condom.

They still, breathing returning to normal, heart rates calming, as they lie in the afterglow together. Rey’s big toe strokes up Ben’s shin, tickling against the soft hair there, as they lie, legs entangled, quilt thrown loosely over them. Her head rests on his bicep as her hand roams up, fiddling with his fingers as he traces patterns on her palm. He hums a tuneless melody, and her eyes flick up to his face, taking in the graceful arch of his nose, steep slope of his cheekbones and the flushed pillows of his lips, parted slightly with a carefree smile. 

One eye opens as he senses her watching gaze, grin widening as he rolls to his side, large hand coming to cup the apple of her cheek. He captures her lips in a tender kiss, thumb stroking lazily along the curve of her face, before pulling back to look at her, eyes hooded with near sleep.

“What?” she asks, wriggling closer, batting eyelashes up at him.

Ben pulls her tight into a hug against his chest, ear pressed over his heart, thumping away steadily. “Nothing.”

Rey hums in agreement before slipping into a deep, deep sleep.

  
  


It’s still snowing when she wakes that evening, the falling flakes illuminated by the soft bedroom light seeping out the double window, soft breathing the only sound in the room. Ben’s awake, or dozing maybe, fingers playing idly with a strand of her hair. His eyes blink open as she stirs, twisting in the crook of his arm, chin resting on the dip of his collar bone.

“Hello,” he says sleepily.

“Hey.” Rey pushes some frizzy matted hair from her forehead. “Shower?”

Ben nods. “Shower.”

He scoops her up in a mass of sheets, throwing her laughing over his shoulder, ignoring her protests of “Ben, I can walk for myself!” until they’re in the massive ensuite. A twist of the tap and the room is soon filling with steam, fogging the mirror, and opening her lungs after a day of cool winter air. 

It’s not a very efficient shower — a lot more running hands over each other and kissing away droplets along the bridge of her nose than actual washing, but Rey does manage to slap some conditioner on her tangled mop of hair. It’s much nicer than what she usually uses — she’ll have to ask Ben which brand it is, although it’s probably disgustingly expensive. 

Rey’s stomach starts rumbling as they’re stepping out of the hot water, Ben wrapping her in a huge fluffy towel and handing her a smaller one for her hair. 

“I think,” he says, slinging another around his hips, “It’s time for you to try my famous scrambled eggs.”

“Famous or infamous?”

Ben scrubs his raven mop vigorously, Rey watching his shoulders dance with the action. “Famous,” he says, straightening.

They hop down the stairs, still towel clad, but it doesn’t matter — Poe won’t be back for another few hours at least.

“Would it freak you out,” Rey says, rubbing the moisture from her own hair, “if I said today was the best day of my life?” Ben chuckles, descending the steps ahead of her. “Okay, maybe not the best, but certainly top… five.”

He’s come to a stop at the base of the staircase, Rey just noticing the sunken look on his face, staring past the kitchen, into the dining room. Standing on the top step, her head turns to see —  _ Oh, fuck. _


End file.
